


Sharing the Sunlight

by JennaSinclair



Series: Sharing the Sunlight (STS) [1]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, First Time, M/M, Novel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 162,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11891739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennaSinclair/pseuds/JennaSinclair
Summary: Action/Adventure in a prologue and seventeen chapters during the earliest weeks of Kirk and Spock's relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE FROM JENNA: I really surprised myself when my great enthusiasm and love for Kirk and Spock more or less forced me into sitting down and writing about them with my very first story. Which turned into a novel when they kept talking. It was like I didn't have a choice! That was back in 1991, twenty-six years ago. Yikes! 
> 
> The novel SHARING THE SUNLIGHT is the first entry in my Sharing the Sunlight series. Each work was written so that a reader could catch up with what is going on if they haven’t read the previous stories, but of course you’ll get a bit more if you read the series in order. I use the name Jenna Sinclair for this K/S series. I use Jenna Hilary Sinclair for all other fanfiction and my professional work.
> 
> Here's the series in chronological order:
> 
> 1\. Sharing the Sunlight (novel)  
> 2\. Reflections on a Lunar Landscape  
> 3\. Pursuing Hyacinths (novella)  
> 4\. Heart’s Delight (novella)  
> 5\. Primal Scream  
> 6\. Parallel Courses  
> 7\. Double Trouble  
> 8\. Son of Sarek (novella)  
> 9\. Promises to Keep (novel)  
> 10\. Jagged Edges  
> 11\. Manna  
> 12\. Journey’s End  
> 13\. One Night  
> 14\. In the Shade (novel)
> 
> All stories and novels in the Sharing the Sunlight series will be posted to Archive of Our Own.
> 
> Sharing the Sunlight was first published in 1992 by Merry Men Press, Robin Hood publisher. 
> 
> Thank you so much for taking the time to read Sharing the Sunlight! Happy reading!

PROLOGUE

The Scot’s voice was loud but only slightly slurred.

“...And then she popped him in the stomach and said, ‘Surprise!”‘ Scotty leaned forward in helpless laughter at the punch line, while McCoy, seated next to him, wiped his eyes from streaming laugh tears. They had been listening to Scotty’s jokes for more than thirty minutes, and Kirk had passed the point of laughter. He just grinned, shook his head, and continued to balance his brandy glass on his stomach.

It was late in the ship’s night, and the three friends had gathered in Kirk’s cabin for a congenial glass of the captain’s finest. They had continued talking for hours. It was seldom that ship’s business allowed them so much leisure time and the emotional setting to enjoy it. But with no crisis to cope with or imminent mission to worry over, they were taking advantage of a most unusual lull. Their very relaxed state had quickly degenerated into raucous stories and sexual anecdotes. They were all enjoying the evening immensely.

Kirk’s legs had been propped up casually on his desk for the past half-hour, and he shifted one ankle over the other occasionally to ease the strain.

A silence, comfortable and warm, settled over the three as the laughter subsided. McCoy groped for a tissue, wiped his eyes, and blew his nose. Kirk smiled at his friend and felt somewhat contemplative. He focused on the pattern of shadows the subdued light made on the wall over Scotty’s head.

Scotty broke the silence.

“Now yon Vulcan, he’s the one who surprised me,” and he tilted his glass in the direction of Spock’s cabin before he swallowed again.

A short pause, and then as Scotty said nothing more but stared quietly into the amber depths of his glass, McCoy turned towards him and asked, “Surprise? How did Spock do that? Find the location of your department’s latest still?” They all knew Scotty turned a blind eye to some of the less traditional pursuits of his eager engineering techs, and Spock interfered as little as possible with the engineer’s domain. McCoy was only trying to provoke Scotty into an explanation. He succeeded.

“Ach, nay, Doctor.” Scotty spread his hand with the denial. His voice acquired a more distinct burr with each drink consumed. “He surprised me on Melkot with that damned meld. I wouldna have thought it of him, private as he is. I wouldna have thought it of him.” Scotty shuddered elaborately, knowing he had the full attention of the other two men, treating this tale like any other of the stories he had told earlier. He was pleased to be the center of attention still.

McCoy tilted his head, looked once at the silent Kirk behind the desk, then addressed himself to Scotty’s knee. “That was the first time you ever melded with Spock, wasn’t it, Scotty?” He glanced up. “You do know it had to be done. We could have all been killed by those damned imaginary bullets.”

Scotty now was sitting bolt upright in his chair, arms folded stubbornly across his chest, a set expression on his face. “Ah ken, Doctor, and I’m grateful he did it, but ah still doon’t hold with anyone amuckin’ aboot in mah mind.” The engineer turned his head accusingly towards McCoy. “I’ve heard you say it often enough y’rself.”

Before the doctor had a chance to agree or defend himself, the previously silent captain spoke. “What are you two talking about?” he asked. The front legs of his chair thudded to the floor as he removed his feet from the desk and leaned forward intently. “What’s so bad about melding with Spock?”

Kirk was used to McCoy’s grumbling. The doctor complained about everything from the transporter to the inadequate training of his duty nurses. It was just part of the man’s character. And Kirk had always taken the doctor’s slightly wary, challenging attitude towards the first officer in stride. He knew without discussion that McCoy had been uncomfortable the few times circumstances had required him to meld with Spock. But now Scotty was expressing reservations about the same thing, and Kirk was very curious.

Neither McCoy nor Scott spoke, so Kirk repeated, “Well, what’s so bad about it?”

McCoy exchanged a long look with the engineer, and then spoke first. “Jim, you know it’s hard to explain such a subjective experience.” He gestured widely with the hand not holding a glass. “We humans don’t have any frame of reference for something like a meld, or even our reactions to it. I’d be hard pressed to explain it to you.”

Kirk seemed undeterred. He remained in his leaning forward posture and encouraged, “Try.”

McCoy grimaced and ran a hand over his face. “You’re a persistent bugger, Jim, you know? All right, I’ll try.” The doctor appeared to spend a moment in thought.

“Each of the few times I’ve melded with Spock, I’ve had the same image in my mind. At first, I feel those hot fingers on my face, and it’s almost like my brain is starting to itch.” He squirmed slightly at the image and took a sip from his glass, trying to find the best words to describe a very exotic experience. “Then there’s this huge waterfall thundering all around me, and I’m about to fall right over it. I’m panicking, but Spock is there to catch me halfway down. He does it with a jolt, too, and it hurts a little to have me slamming right into him. And instead of being grateful that he’s caught me, I’m madder’n hell that he hurt me.”

McCoy cast an ironic glance at his two companions. “Real logical, huh? Anyway, there I am, kicking and heaving, trying to get away, I don’t know where to, and there’s Spock just holdin’ on, never letting go. He’s got me hanging there, suspended in space, with the water roaring all around me.”

He grinned wryly, carefully placing his drink on the floor between his legs, and leaned forward with elbows on knees. He was warming to his subject and planned to finish his explanation. ‘Bout time somebody held the floor besides Scotty anyway. McCoy glanced at the engineer, then spoke directly to Kirk.

“Now I’ve thought about this before, Jim, and I think I know what’s going on. My mind’s doing its best to put an indescribable experience into images I can cope with. Falling off the waterfall is falling into Spock’s mind with the meld. Him catching me is Spock taking control of the meld so that only the necessary thoughts come through and the meld is shallow. And the itching is... well, Spock always does make me itchy.” He grinned again, pleased with Scotty’s guffaw and the way he had turned a personal, serious subject to a humorous conclusion.

But still Kirk was still leaning forward with a dissatisfied expression on his face. He said dryly, “Why Bones, I never knew you had such a poetic turn of mind.” Then he turned to Scott, and said quietly, seriously, looking directly into his eyes, “And how did you see your meld with Spock, Mr. Scott?”

For a moment Scotty was silent, regarding the captain cautiously. Kirk was the best of commanding officers, and a good friend to boot. He could be relied upon in good times and bad, and when it was necessary exercised his authority with compassion and consideration. Scotty had no complaint with the younger man as his captain. But it could not be denied that there was now a commanding tone to his voice, a certain set to his jaw, despite the brandy and the hours of conversation among three friends. For some reason, Kirk was serious about Scott’s reply. The engineer was confused, thrown off balance by the intensity that had not been in the room before.

“Well, Captain, I mean no disrespect, sir...” He trailed off uneasily, shifting slightly in his chair. He tried again. “And I certainly doon’t have the good doctor’s way with words.” He smiled for effect, hoping he could ease the sudden tension with his next light words. “...Robert Burns in me blood or not.” There was no visible reaction from his captain.

Scotty swallowed and decided to just say what he felt regardless of how it would sound. “The truth of the matter is, melding with yon Vulcan made me very uncomfortable, very uncomfortable indeed. ‘Tis not an experience I’d want to repeat, unless I had to.” He became earnest. “I do nae believe we humans were meant to have our minds tampered with, invaded. The good Lord gave me nae power to read your mind, sir, or yours, Doctor,” Scotty nodded to each in turn, “and I doon’t want anybody readin’ mine.” He nodded emphatically and folded his arms firmly over his chest.

Kirk was still hunched over his folded hands on the desk, and now creases appeared between his eyes and on his forehead as he frowned. “But Scotty,” he said softly, the commanding officer disappearing and the friend taking his place, “you said ‘tampered with, invaded’.... Surely you don’t think Spock….” Kirk left the sentence dangling in the air, implying the foregone reply, inviting none other.

The engineer drew back in amazement, only partly feigned. “Ach, Captain, I know Mr. Spock wouldna do anything he shouldn’t have, but....” His body suddenly sagged as the truth hit him. “Ah also know he could have, if he had wanted to.” He glanced apologetically at the two men in turn. “It’s the being in someone else’s power, you see, a power ah doon’t understand.” He stared at his boots and lapsed into introspection.

McCoy nodded slowly. No one reached senior officer status in Starfleet because they enjoyed helplessness. And he understood much of Scotty’s fear, because he felt the same way himself. Well, maybe not exactly. After all, he’d had that awful experience with the bearded Spock in the alternate universe. Anyone who had experienced mind rape would dislike melds! But he agreed with Scotty nevertheless, it was the hanging there, knowing Spock was in total control of the situation that also bothered the hell out of him, and accounted for much of his aversion to melds.

The doctor slowly fingered his upper lip. This conversation was becoming very interesting, very revealing for them all. McCoy had always thought Scotty was a Puritan at heart: so wrapped up in the mechanics of space flight that he had rarely had to confront the wonders it brought. His psych profile had never shown the extreme flexibility that, for example, Jim’s showed. Scotty’s reaction to the meld was actually quite predictable if he had stopped to think about it.

McCoy shifted his attention to the captain, who was looking at Scotty with mismatched expressions of sympathy and incredulity flashing across his face. Maybe this was the night for trading stories. Before the younger man could gather his thoughts to speak, McCoy decided to pursue that thought. “Well, Jim Boy,” he said in his best Southern drawl, a technique that he occasionally used to distract people, “you’ve heard from Scotty and you’ve heard from me. How d’y’all feel about your first officer’s mind in yours?”

Kirk looked up sharply at McCoy. The doctor saw Kirk’s eyes narrow in thought, saw him take a deep breath as his arm went up to run his hand over his forehead, tousle his hair, and then down to rub his neck gently. Kirk smiled slightly and said, “Well, I sure don’t feel like you two do,” then faintly derisive, “waterfalls and invasion. I like it! I’ve always liked melding with Spock.” He looked up directly into each friend’s eyes in turn, then returned his gaze to the floor, obviously a little embarrassed by this declaration. He had never before spoken of his feelings about the meld.

“I don’t think I can explain it though.” How to explain rising refreshed after a deep sleep, or finally arriving home to see his family, or utter repletion after wonderful lovemaking? The soul-deep satisfaction his melds with Spock entailed was indescribable. He just couldn’t do it, or even attempt it. It would come out sounding a lot sillier, and infinitely more personal, than waterfalls. Kirk had never even discussed this with Spock, and he had the uncomfortable feeling that if he continued this conversation, he would be betraying an unspoken confidence with his Vulcan friend. Better to try to end this session gracefully and get some sleep. It was getting late.

Kirk drained his glass as if in summation. “No, I can’t explain it any more than you two can. A meld is apparently indescribable, at least to mere humans. All I can say is, where Scotty feels uncomfortable, I feel comfortable. I don’t know why.” He carefully placed his glass back on the tray and rose in a not-so-subtle message that the evening was over.

But McCoy was unwilling to end it at that. He had easily followed Kirk’s withdrawal into introspection and his quick suppression of his feelings. He’d observed it all too often in both his commanding officers. Maybe it was time to poke a little at the captain’s facade, crack it open to some expression of what was inside. And why the hell, McCoy thought in a rush of annoyance, would Jim want to deny the obvious affection he felt for his first officer? They were all friends here, weren’t they?

“Well, I think I know why you like melds,” McCoy declared as he also rose and put his empty tumbler next to Kirk’s. “You’re friends. Simple as that, right? You and Spock are best friends who are as compatible as fried chicken and mashed potatoes.” He shrugged. “Not too surprising that you’re mentally compatible, too.” He turned to Scott and plucked the glass from his hand as the engineer stifled a yawn. “Come on, Scotty, I prescribe sleep, or you won’t be able to find your engines tomorrow. Good night, Jim. You can drink my liquor next time.” With a smile he left, with Scotty right behind him.

Kirk moved quietly about his cabin, putting it to rights for his duties tomorrow. He felt curiously on edge, Bones’ final words still resonating in his ears with a discordant warble. His mind skittered away from the sound and focused instead on his movements. He put the tray and glasses to one side to clear his desk, deposited the liquor bottle back in its upper cabinet, moved the chairs his friends had been using to their proper places. His movements were smooth, mechanical. Kirk thought briefly of his schedule for the next day, visited the bathroom for clean up, and then neatly turned down the bedspread. It was only when he lay stretched out on his back, one knee bent and one arm stretched over his head, that he gave himself up to thought.

Why had he been so insistent on hearing Scotty’s and Bones’ reaction to their melds, when he had known they couldn’t possibly be anything like his own? But the brandy and the easy camaraderie had loosened his inhibitions and dulled his judgment, so that he had initiated a discussion on something he couldn’t possibly talk about.

He felt a little guilty that the evening had ended on a somewhat dissonant note. Scotty really was funny when he got going with his stories, and it was good to see Bones laugh so hard after the depression that had followed Yeoman Lin’s strange accidental death. The letter to her human mother alone among the Belurians had been especially hard to write. They had all needed to unwind....

Kirk recognized the tactics his own mind was using and re-routed his thoughts directly back to the subject. Spock. No need really to ask himself questions. He knew he was still coming to terms with that last meld on Melkot a month ago, still turning it over and over in his mind.

That meld had been different, very different. Although he and Spock had melded before in the line of duty, it had been a while since they had done so while Kirk had been in his right mind, not suffering from amnesia or a life-threatening injury. In fact, Kirk mused, it had probably been more than a year since his last “normal” meld with Spock. So much had happened in that year. That awful trip to Vulcan. Spock’s smile. Being stabbed by the fake Andorian Thelev. Sargon and Henoch. How alone he had felt in Tholian space. How wonderful it had been to be back.

And then Melkot. Talk about compatibility. Kirk grinned at the ceiling. Bones didn’t know the half of it. Melding with Spock on Melkot had been one of the easiest things Kirk had ever done. And one of the most startlingly joyful. Wonderful. Fulfilling. All the feelings of their friendship ripened by time, the satisfaction in being Starfleet’s best team, the knowledge they had of each other’s support, had fused in that meld and been seen by them both.

Turning over on his side and pillowing his head arms, Kirk basked for a minute in the glow, in the memory of what had passed between the two of them that had been so intimate, and yet so fleeting. As always, duty had forced them to business. But Kirk remembered the seconds in Spock’s mind as if they had been an hour. The natural, easy assumption that he and Spock had grown to be friends as their five year mission progressed had been highlighted to brilliant clarity by the experience on Melkot. It was just too personal to reveal to anyone else, even to Bones. 

Kirk turned over on his stomach, punched the pillow and prepared to sleep. If no one else shared his affinity for melds with Spock, that was their problem. He knew when he had a friend. A very special friend with good old Bones’ “mental compatibility.” As he drifted off to sleep, he thought _Closer than Sam ever was._ Sleep smoothed his thoughts and he assimilated the idea.

Five days later, Kirk felt no reluctance at all in telling Garth of Izar that he and Spock were brothers.

 

CHAPTER ONE

Lieutenant Dawson sighed as he took the report chip from the computer, then sighed again as he looked in the direction of his superior’s office door. The Old Man wasn’t going to like this. It would wreak havoc with the schedule.

“Sir?” He poked his head through the doorway and was answered by a preoccupied grunt. Although he had arrived for shift only ten minutes ago, Scotty was already deep into the pod schematics they would be needing today. The engineer waved one hand in a beckoning gesture as he marked his place on the comp screen with the other.

“Sir,” Lieutenant Dawson started again. “Looks like we’re in trouble. Only eight techs and four officers have reported in for this shift. The rest have all come down with this flu. And I don’t think there’s any way we can finish flushing the coil today with so few of us on duty.” Scotty’s assistant left it at that. It was perfectly obvious to Dawson that they would need to ask for help, but he also knew Scott well. His superior would need a little time to get used to the idea.

Scotty threw up his hands in disgust. “How are we ever goin’ to get this ship in shape for the inspection with half the crew malingering?” His eyes narrowed at Dawson. “Are ya sure they’ve all really got this bug?”

Dawson handed him the report. “All sickbay certified, sir. Except for M’Tubu. She has the Arcturan measles.”

Scotty shook his head at their misfortune. Did the flu have to strike right in the middle of a delicate recalibration of the matter/antimatter pods? He had heard McCoy growling about the sickness last night at dinner. And the captain had hoped it wouldn’t interfere with the compilation of the Mid-Mission Review reports he was expecting from all departments. The _Enterprise_ had only a month to go before they were scheduled for the MMR inspection, and the captain was intent on getting the ship into perfect shape. Scotty had obliged him by scheduling the engine work during a leisurely trip to an agricultural colony. He hadn’t counted on the flu.

Scotty finished his contemplation and slapped his hand on the desk with resignation. “Well, laddie, don’t just stand there. Let’s look at the roster and see who’s fresh enough to pull the duty. I don’t want an overtired crewman a-fouling up the system.”

Despite their best efforts, Dawson and Scotty still did not have a full roster after reviewing available personnel. The flu had hit the ship hard, seeming to attack the older, more experienced techs. Many others of those available Scotty rejected out of hand for lack of experience. Beta and gamma shifts were adequate for the routine functioning of the ship, but he was reluctant to trust most of those still healthy with this most delicate operation.

Scotty had just started to get desperate enough to consider other alternatives when the intercom buzzed. He slapped the button in irritation. “This is Scott.”

“Spock here, Mister Scott. I have reviewed the shift report and see that you are seriously understaffed.”

“Aye, that we are, Mister Spock. Even pulling Everett and Holden from their beds and picking up a few other techs I trust, I’m that reluctant to continue the coil work so undermanned.”

“Would it be possible for you to postpone the recalibration?”

“Aye, we could do that, but ah couldna give the captain anything over warp two until we’re finished, and who knows how long this flu will keep my best lads and lassies in their beds?”

“Then you have no choice but to borrow competent officers from other departments. Lieutenant Chen and Ensign Kraus from Astrophysics each have engineering backgrounds and are available now. Have you considered pulling Maintenance personnel?”

Spock’s voice was even, but the phlegmatic Vulcan knew the emotional content of his question. As he awaited Scott’s reaction, he quickly reviewed the situation. Although technically under Lieutenant Commander Scott’s jurisdiction, Maintenance operated fairly independently under Lieutenant Commander Fraser. There had been a significant “running feud,” as McCoy had colloquially put it, between Engineering and Maintenance for quite some time. Of course, Engineering staff traditionally looked down on Maintenance crewmen in a most illogical manner, but Spock was aware that the feud between the two sections on the _Enterprise_ had grown beyond the Starfleet norm.

Spock would have considered himself a grossly incompetent first officer if he had not known of the subtle friction, despite the complexities of the human emotions involved. He saw it as a challenge and monitored the situation to ensure it did not impair ship’s functioning. Jim had laughed when Spock had told him of the rivalry, and said that a little more competition might produce a tighter ship. Spock was less sanguine and contemplated possible causes. There was a certain incompatibility of temperament between the engineer and Fraser, who was a nervous, humorless individual of great stubbornness. And the altercation on Centaurus on Stardate 2787.2 between the parties of both sides….

Spock ceased his speculations as Scott finally replied. He sounded reluctant.

“Aye, I’m sure you’ll be telling me it’s logical to use them.”

Spock was in no doubt as to whom the emotionally charged “them” referred to.

“Many Maintenance technicians are skilled in the same disciplines as your own Engineering staff, and there is no critical task currently occupying that section. I would recommend Shinswani and Walls in particular, but you may of course make your own arrangement with Lieutenant Commander Fraser. Alert me when you achieve final crew dispositions or if you require further assistance. The current viral infestation is creating scheduling difficulties ship-wide. Spock out.”

Scotty felt a momentary sympathy for the first officer faced with what must be a gigantic manpower headache, then grimly contemplated the necessity of working with that reprobate Fraser. What he wouldn’t do or his engines.

 

*****

 

It was so hot! He could feel his shirt plastered to his skin by the sweat trickling down his back. It was a strange sensation. Since leaving his people to serve with the humans aboard the _Enterprise_ , he had rarely been warm enough to be comfortable. And the pounding in his head! By the Great Mother, he wished he could just lay down and rest. But the Old Man wouldn’t like it. No. The Old Man needed him. Time to go.

He put one foot in front of the other with an effort. The hall spun crazily for a moment, then steadied as he took a deep breath. No one could know he was sick. They’d find out what he’d been doing if they discovered he was sick. He’d lose everything, never be able to come back. Lose….

Engineering was busy. There were unfamiliar faces there, and for a moment he was disoriented. Was he hallucinating? Dawson was there, the bastard. Always around, always snooping. Did Dawson know? About…. No, no one did. He’d been clever. No one had to worry about him. He knew how to hide it, and how to do his duty. Even the duty the bastard gave him now. Monitoring. He could do more than monitoring. The Old Man knew that. He was good, even though…. He was good.

The sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead now, and he tried to wipe it off on his sleeve. Monitoring was boring. Wished he could go back, take just a little. No! No, never on duty. What was wrong with him? He knew, never on duty!

He wrestled with the craving, won, and for a while was able to ignore the aches in his muscles, too. It was quiet here now, just an unfamiliar crewwoman sitting at the secondary monitoring station. The others were up in the tubes or in the coils. He could make it, he was gonna be able to get through this shift. Halfway through now.

The pounding in his head grew worse. He concentrated on the display before him, watching the shifting readout follow the actions of the techs in the tubes. It was hard to, with the pain. His chest hurt now, too. But he could do it. He was good, wasn’t he?

The woman across the room moved suddenly. She seemed to be saying something, but nothing made sense with this roaring in his head. She shook his shoulder and pointed to his board, mouth open. What, was there something wrong? He felt himself moving in slow motion. He’d fix it. The chamber. Red filled his vision. For the Old Man….

 

*****

 

After three and a half hours Spock finally rose and switched off the computer in his lab office. The days when administrative duties claimed his attention over scientific efforts were thankfully few. Such duties were usually unrewarding, but Spock still gave them his usual meticulous attention.

Not, he thought as he walked through the corridor and entered a turbolift, that scheduling around the flu had been without its small challenges. But now he was free to join his captain in his quarters. Jim was reviewing the first of the personnel lists submitted by department heads for the Mid-Mission Review. Each crewmember’s performance and function on the ship deserved careful consideration, and this took much time. Some would be promoted, possibly to another ship or a ground assignment, others had requested transfers, and Spock himself intended to request several additional crewmembers for the sciences departments. Mid-Mission Review was a time of much change.

Spock knew that the captain dreaded the paperwork and tedium that accompanied their normal quarterly reports; now much more would be associated with the MMR. It pleased him that his input as first officer would be most helpful at this time.

Without conscious intent, Spock’s footsteps quickened at the thought of spending so much time one-on-one with his captain…Jim. Although they would be immersed in ship’s business and not one of their pleasurably stimulating chess games, it was always satisfying to be in the company of a mind so well-matched to his own. It had taken Spock a long time to acknowledge this fact to himself, but once confronted, he had realized that it would be illogical to ignore the friendship he shared with his captain. It filled certain psychic deficiencies which he had long felt. He had lived for so long without the benefit of a friend…. But now there was Jim, and even a Vulcan was permitted to enjoy companionship.

Spock entered Kirk’s quarters to find the captain seated at his desk already hard at work. He looked up at Spock and smiled his welcome.

“Good morning, Captain. I am now free to join you in personnel review.”

“Still just morning? I feel as if I’ve been going over these tapes for a lot longer than that. Come on, have a seat.” Kirk gestured to the chair at the other side of the desk, then reached back to the credenza behind him. He picked up some covered thermal containers and placed them on the desk after shoving the tapes to one side.

Spock looked at the dishes and then up at Kirk, amusement in his eyes. “And what is this?” The first officer knew that Kirk never missed a meal if he could help it, a fact McCoy had commented on many times.

“You know damn well what it is, it’s lunch. I had my yeoman bring it up half an hour ago and I’ve waited for you. Mine should be pastrami and cheese on rye,” he lifted one cover and eyed the substantial sandwich with favor, “and yours should be some of that squash soup you’ve been devouring the past week.” Kirk took a hefty bite of his sandwich.

“I did not know you were familiar with squash soup,” Spock commented as he picked up his spoon.

“I noticed that it didn’t smell as bad as plomeek.” Kirk teased, then paused for another mouthful of pastrami and a swallow. “How come you switched?”

“As you know, Lieutenant Everett is also a vegetarian. He took the time to program the synthesizer with recipes sent to him by his mother, and I have sampled most of them.”

“Why not ask your mother for some Vulcan recipes, Spock? Bet even you’d appreciate some home-planet dishes instead of just plain fruits and vegetables. Now that you’re corresponding with your parents again.” Kirk had even sent Sarek and Amanda a tape himself, congratulating Sarek on the successful negotiation of the Coridan entry, and inquiring after his health. The captain and Amanda had become well-acquainted during the ambassador’s convalescence.

Spock paused with the spoon halfway to his mouth, then replaced it carefully on the rim of the bowl. “I am sure my mother would comply if so requested, but I question our synthesizer’s ability to duplicate Vulcan flavor and texture. It has a decided bias towards Terran cuisine. However, I believe I will so experiment. The idea has merit.”

“Yeah, well, I wish I could taste my mother’s home cooking again. She makes the most incredible waffles…. I got a tape from her the other day.”

“Is she well?”

Kirk paused a moment, then resumed pouring them each a glass of iced tea from a carafe. “As well as can be expected, I guess. She’s still grieving over Sam and Aurelan. She wants to take Peter to visit Deneva during school vacation, and was wondering if she could see me then too. I wish I could just tell her where and when, but with our schedule….” He shook his head.

“Your mother is to be commended for taking responsibility for her grandson.”

“Yeah, she’s great. I wish you could meet her, Spock.” Kirk leaned back in his chair while wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Maybe you can if we manage to get together this time. You’d like my mother.” His tone softened. “And she would appreciate you. She’s led such a simple, ordinary life on Earth, but she’s always been able to understand what attracts me to my life in space. She would understand why we’re friends.”

“Such acceptance is a precious gift.”

The two men locked eyes. Kirk thought of the eighteen years Spock had been estranged from his parents, and the unvoiced sorrow that had caused his friend. But the brown eyes gazing into his were not sorrowful, and Kirk knew Spock was not thinking of the past, but of the present.

Acceptance. Is that what had occurred between them? The captain had been acutely conscious of the changed status of their friendship since Melkot. Their open feelings of affection for one another in the meld had spilled over into their everyday relationship. Everything had changed, but nothing had. Spock was as willing to seek Kirk’s company as ever, but now there was a more genuine warmth to their time together, a subtly acknowledged pleasure not present before.

Like being able to look into his friend’s eyes and receive thanks for an acceptance that Spock had never known before. And knowing exactly what Spock meant, without words. He wondered at how easily Spock had adjusted to their silent emotional communion. So different from the stiff Vulcan of a few years ago. He wished he could give something in return for that change, in response to this rare gift of friendship.

Kirk cleared his throat and resumed the conversation as if the small silence had not occurred. Another gift, comfortable silence.

“Did you get around the scheduling problems all right? I saw that Engineering was really hard hit.”

They conversed amiably on the difficulties presented by the flu, and the talk naturally flowed to the crew evaluations. They were halfway through Security when the intercom sounded. Kirk hit the button and the image of his chief engineer appeared on the screen.

“Scott here, sir.” Scott’s expression was distracted, and his hair a bit disheveled. Kirk traded a concerned glance with Spock, then returned a tense gaze to the screen.

“What’s happened, Scotty?”

“It’s all fine now, sir, no damage done,” Scott hastened to reassure, “but I thought I’d let you know before mah report hits your desk. We had a little trouble here in Engineering. Ah…. Ah doon’t quite know why it happened, but ah suppose we could blame it on the flu.”

Scotty looked to the side for a moment, then caught sight of his captain’s frustrated face. He squared his shoulders and resumed the report in more military tones, his accent clipped and almost non-existent.

“We were flushing one of the coils, sir, and as you know that involves rerouting the energy flow through the secondary chamber.” Kirk saw Spock nod once out of the corner of his eye. “I had one of my better techs, Cr’tur, monitoring it. But the chamber was only partially polarized and receptive.”

Kirk swallowed hard. Even though his knowledge of how the warp engines worked couldn’t compare with Scotty’s, he did know the situation described was a serious problem. Overload in the intermix chamber could have easily occurred. Though automatic safeguards and computer controls would probably have prevented a catastrophic explosion, Kirk did not relish the vision of limping in to a starbase on impulse power alone.

Scotty continued, “Thank God Shinswani noticed a fluctuation on her magnetic monitor board and went to check it out immediately.” He took a deep breath and became formal. “Captain, ah’ll nae let my pride get in the way of mah judgment. Shinswani prevented serious damage to the engines, and Maintenance tech or no, I’m putting in my request for an official commendation for her. She deserves it.”

Kirk was more concerned with rooting out the cause of the mistake than he was in noticing Scotty’s self-sacrificing gesture. “What about Cr’tur? How could he have made such an error?”

“Captain, by the time we had secured the process, he was collapsed on the deck. Doctor McCoy says he’s got this damned bug and hauled him off to sickbay. But what ah doon’t understand,” Scotty’s tone became aggrieved, “is why he didn’t tell me he was feeling ill and report off duty. He knows how important that monitoring is. That’s why ah put one of my own on it.”

“We’ll find out as soon as McCoy lets us talk to him,” Kirk said grimly. The captain hoped for Cr’tur’s sake that the flu had made him delirious and distorted his judgment, but whatever the reasons for his error, Cr’tur would hear from his captain.

Kirk continued, “Let me have your report on it, Scotty, and I’ll talk to McCoy. And Scotty,” Kirk paused while a small smile flitted over his lips. “Thank God for Maintenance techs, huh?” He closed the channel over a frustrated sigh.

The captain fiddled with the stylus on the desk for a moment and then looked up at his first officer. He spoke softly. “Makes me feel so helpless, sometimes, knowing that we almost lost warp power, maybe even the ship, all because of one inexperienced technician. Incidents like this tend to put the captain in his place.” He was silent for a moment, then brightened at another thought. “Still, Scotty will never live this down. And Fraser will never let him. How much do you want to bet that Scotty will be requesting Shinswani be transferred to Engineering?”

A smile touched Spock’s lips for just a moment, long enough to register with his companion, and then was replaced with a bland expression. “You know I do not gamble, Captain.” One eyebrow was raised. “In addition, the odds are most definitely in your favor.”

Kirk grinned back. “You bet they are, Spock. I know a sure thing when I see one,”

When McCoy buzzed for admittance a few hours later, his senior officers were still sifting through the evaluations.

Kirk called, “Come,” then stood, yawned and stretched as his CMO walked in. His muscles felt stiff and achy from the hours of inactivity. Other than one trip to check on the bridge and set Sulu to beta shift scheduling, he’d been sitting all day.

“You boys have really been at it, haven’t you?” Bones commented, surveying the wreckage of Kirk’s cabin. Comp slates, tapes, printouts, coffee cups and the remains from lunch littered every available surface.

Kirk followed the doctor’s gaze. “Yeah, well, we only have about twenty more to go, another hour maybe, and then we’ll be finished with this batch.” He cleared his throat. “And there is organization here in all this chaos.”

“The captain does have a generally orderly mind, Doctor,” Spock said mildly. “Do not allow appearances to deceive you.”

Bones snorted. “Right. Well, while you two have been hibernating up here with your reports, I’ve been dealing with a flu epidemic in sickbay.” He moved to a chair, tiredly flopped into it, and rubbed his eyes. Then he straightened and continued. “Darn near twenty percent of the crew is sick in bed, but that’s not the worst of it. The worst is that we’ve already had one casualty, from a virus strain that isn’t really that serious.”

“A casualty? Who is it?” Kirk, suddenly concerned, moved back to his chair.

“Cr’tur, from Engineering. And do you know why Cr’tur died from the flu, Captain?” McCoy paused, but Kirk suddenly felt tired and irritable.

“Come on, Bones, don’t play games,” he snapped. “It’s been a long day and I’m not up to it. Why did he die?”

McCoy’s eyes narrowed but he continued evenly. “Because, Captain, Cr’tur was a TNT addict.”

There was a lengthy silence.

Predictably, Spock was the first to recover. “That explains his reluctance to report his illness to Engineer Scott. He was fearful that his addiction would be discovered.”

For a moment, Kirk felt sorrow at a crewman’s death war with fury. Then the anger won, and he felt a hot flush creep up his face as he clenched his fists. A litany kept repeating in his head, _Not on my ship!_ A moment later he realized how naive that sounded. Drug addiction was an age-old problem that was no respecter of a strong-willed commanding officer.

He said in a deceptively calm voice, “I don’t know much about TNT, just the name. What kind of drug is it?”

“TNT is a strong drug, Captain.” Spock spoke before McCoy had the chance. “It is habit forming, both physically and psychologically. It is completely manmade, presumably in Orion laboratories, and its distribution is primarily near the Orion sector of space. It made its appearance in the Federation within the past year.”

“The past year?” Kirk queried. He rubbed his chin in consideration. “And we haven’t been anywhere near the Orion sector for longer than that. How did Cr’tur get it? It couldn’t have been easy. And Bones,” he turned towards the doctor, “why did he die? An overdose?”

McCoy shook his head. “An overdose of this drug would definitely be fatal, Jim, it’s a nasty hallucinogen. They call it TNT because you get quite a rush on inhaling it. But no, Cr’tur didn’t overdose. His immune system had been weakened by use of the drug. It’s one of the side effects of the addiction. He had an especially bad case of the flu. His D’L’Akat physiology didn’t help things any, either.” The doctor paused and looked pensive.

Kirk had moved to the divider between office and bedroom as McCoy spoke, and now he turned to the two men. “The question is, is this an isolated incident, or do we have a pattern of drug use on board my ship?” His voice rose with the question.

“That question is simpler to answer because we have approximately one-quarter of the crew already under medical surveillance, due to the virus outbreak.” Spock sat with steepled fingers as he thought. “Testing of those with the flu, and then accelerated examinations for others under the guise of the current medical emergency, would answer for the remainder.”

McCoy groaned. “Just what I need! Physicals on top of an epidemic. Give me a break, Spock. My staff and I are only human.”

Kirk joined in. He was still leaning against the divider, looking flushed. “And that will still only answer part of the question. Even if the rest of the crew were clean, we have to face the fact that a supply of that stuff may be on board. Cr’tur got it somewhere.”

“Yes, a starship would make an excellent courier for small packages. And smuggling is not an unknown activity, even for Starfleet personnel. Doctor, what is this drug’s typical form?”

“A white powder. But it could be dissolved in a liquid, mixed with some other inert substance, even dyed for all I know. It wouldn’t take much to make one of our crew a fortune, either.”

Spock stood and moved to the intercom on the captain’s desk. “I shall alert Security to discreetly begin a search for the substance in Cr’tur’s quarters.”

He paused with his finger on the intercom button and looked for a moment at Kirk. The captain straightened and returned the gaze. Mind apparently made up, Spock abruptly turned to McCoy. “And perhaps while I do so you would examine the captain for flu symptoms. I would be unsurprised to learn that he has the virus.”

Ten minutes later Kirk was firmly tucked in bed after enduring a lecture on patient behavior from the now-departed McCoy. Spock was moving about the office quietly, retrieving a tape when needed, attempting to finish his portion of the evaluations at his captain’s request.

Kirk closed his eyes. The soft slide of tape against desktop, the quiet body sounds Spock made were comforting and not intrusive. He let his mind wander. Damn, what a day! The pressure he felt from the upcoming MMR forcing him to spend a day at his desk, then a flu epidemic striking the crew, the warp engines almost blowing up, and then a crewman dying from a drug addiction. He thought for a while about Tech Cr’tur, wondering what he could have done to prevent his death. Kirk’s sense of responsibility ran deep, and although he knew that realistically he had no hand in the crewman’s demise, he still felt that somehow, someway, he might have been able to avert it, if he had only known. These thoughts led to consideration of the TNT on board ship, and various actions they could take depending on what Security reported.

He glanced at the chronometer. He should hear from Security soon. Better put a robe on then to maintain his captainly dignity. He grimaced; it was hard to feel dignified when your muscles ached like hell and you were under orders to stay in bed.

He wished he could have finished the crew evaluations, but Spock would flag anything that needed his special attention. Kirk glanced over at the desk, taking comfort from his friend’s presence. He knew that Spock would give him all the help he could on the evaluations. And there were plenty more to do. Departmental. Programs. Systems. Weaponry. They would keep him more than busy. Thank God he had Spock to help him and they had started early. It hadn’t been that bad, today. Actually, kind of…pleasant. Not really fun, of course, like a planetfall where he and Spock could stretch their legs under a new sun. But it was a good feeling to be working together, on anything.

He looked again over at the blue-clad back intently bent over the computer screen. Even though the day had been boring, frightening, and worrisome in turn, his main impression of pleasure came from the quiet hours he had spent with Spock, exchanging commonplace comments about the crew. It was a little hard to assimilate, but Kirk knew it was true. He wondered what Spock would say if he told him his thoughts. “Captain, devote your attention to the MMR,” or maybe, “It is illogical to waste your time on your emotions when there is a serious problem on board.” No, Spock wouldn’t say either of those things, now, although he might have a year or two ago.

Kirk’s shoulder muscles twinged and he wondered briefly when McCoy’s analgesic would take effect. He rotated his arms a bit to try to relieve the aching and returned to his contemplations. The Spock who would have said those things seemed to belong to another world, long ago. From the first moment of their first meeting it seemed to him that their relationship had been constantly changing, constantly moving to a better understanding. Now it was impossible to imagine a ship without Spock, a life without his first officer, his soul without this deep feeling for his friend.

Kirk turned onto his side. It was almost uncomfortable, to feel so much. He hadn’t for very many. Couldn’t afford to and be a good leader. His family, of course. Captain Garrovick, but that had been a kind of hero worship. Edith, dear Edith. Bones, with all his grumbling, the best friend anyone could have.

And then there was Spock, somehow apart from the rest.

Kirk remembered a few hours ago, when they had booked into each others’ eyes. Damn, that was what lovers did.

It was also, he slowly conceded to himself, what he and Spock did, especially lately. And then he’d find himself breathing with a tightened chest and dealing with a sudden onslaught of gentle feelings. It felt right, too, to see the Vulcan expression softening, and knowing it was just for him. All the rest of the world saw only the stoic facade.

Then where did that leave him? Kirk turned onto his other side, wishing he didn’t feel so restless. Left him with a fixation on his first officer, that’s where. A distinctly unusual feeling, but a rewarding one too. Should he….

The buzzer sounded and he reached for his robe. The captain moved to hear the Security report.


	2. Chapter 2

Kirk paused as he left his cabin. He and Spock were often on the same morning schedule, and he had heard Spock’s movements in their shared bathroom. He was not disappointed today. His frequent breakfast companion of the last three years emerged just a few moments later from the cabin to the left of Kirk’s and strode towards him with a question in his eye. Kirk chose to ignore it.

“Good morning, Mr. Spock,” he said congenially. They fell into step together towards the turbolift.

Spock was not to be distracted. “Captain, I had not expected to see you this morning. Are you sufficiently recovered to resume your duties?”

Kirk flashed him an open grin and punched the button for the lift. “No, I’m not, but there’s no way I’m going to stay in that cabin one more day. Even recovering, achy captains need to eat, Spock.”

“Then Dr. McCoy has not approved this foray to the mess?”

“No, and with luck he’ll be in sickbay removing a splinter, and I’ll be able to eat in peace.” At Spock’s doubting look, Kirk added, “And he’ll never know if you don’t tell him.”

But Kirk’s plan was foiled when McCoy sat down with his breakfast next to him at the unofficially designated “captain’s table,” where most of the senior officers ate.

“Hmmmm,” the doctor sounded, surveying Kirk’s tray with a jaundiced eye. “Feeling better, are we?”

“Bones, two days in bed are enough, don’t you think? Besides, I wasn’t that sick, you know. I spent most of my time working on Mid-Mission Review reports.” It was true. He had almost been grateful for the mild sickness, since it freed him from other command duties without guilt and gave him the uninterrupted time he’d needed for the MMR. He was quite satisfied with the surprising progress he’d made.

“Well, if you can keep that mess down,” McCoy indicated Kirk’s habitual calorie-laden choices, “you can let me check you out, and I might clear you for light duty.”

“We will be in orbit about the agricultural colony in one point seven hours,” Spock supplied from across the table. “They have requested computer assistance along with the required medical examinations.”

“Perfect. Just what I need, a little exercise and fresh air,” Kirk enthused. “I’ll beam down with you, Spock. Tell me about the colony.”

“It was established only ten months ago. I am not certain you would find the planet very hospitable. The part of the colony which is not cultivated is a rather harsh environment, and living quarters for the few workers are maintained underground because of the heat.” The first officer was doubtful.

“But non-recycled air and stretching my legs would be good for me.” Kirk was not to be deterred, and both Spock and McCoy knew better than to argue with their captain’s harmless enthusiasms. Better to save the ammunition for the occasions that counted.

Kirk pointedly took a mouthful of greasy fried potatoes, challenging McCoy to comment. He swallowed and continued, “The colony belongs to the Johnson Combine, right?”

“Correct.” Spock always felt comfortable supplying needed information, and he leaned back in his chair with hands clasped before him. “Only forty percent of the desert plants cultivated on the colony are intended for consumption; the remainder are used in the manufacture of various drugs by the corporation’s pharmaceutical branch. Primarily medicines to combat diseases suffered by humans. It has been noted that the combine has an illogically xenophobic policy, the source of which has been traced to the founder’s experiences during the first Romulan War. His negative reactions have been codified into corporate policy.” The Vulcan’s voice had a slightly disapproving tone to it.

“Aye, I’ve heard of that, too.” By this time Scotty had joined them. “But Johnson’s also supplies most of Starfleet’s munitions. Those new phaser relays and couplings we put in last overhaul are a dandy piece of engineering. I’ve a mind to tour their Earth plant next time I’ve a chance.”

“Earth plant, indeed, Mr. Scott,” Spock intoned. “It is not logical to maintain the manufacturing arm of their engineering company on a gravity-constraining planet, when orbiting stations or light gravity satellites are available. The attitude is ethnocentric and is not profit maximizing. I do not understand it.”

“It’s not always easy to understand prejudice, Spock,” McCoy put in.

“Doctor,” Spock turned to him with a bland eye. “I have been subjected to prejudice the majority of my life. Once I had assimilated its emotional basis, I realized understanding it was not possible.” Spock seemed to dismiss his personal experiences lightly, although Kirk had long suspected his friend’s unhappy childhood had affected him deeply. Obviously Spock was not willing to discuss it now.

Spock continued, “What puzzles me is the lack of economic motivation to the corporation’s actions.”

“How about another type of motivation? Like a little loyalty to Earth and its human inhabitants?” McCoy asked. “Maybe Johnson’s just wants to provide jobs at a time when too many are being exported

off-world. You know Earth’s government is worried about its productivity.”

“Aye, and what about pride?” Scotty added. “To able to point to something and say, ‘Human ingenuity alone is responsible for this,’ well now, that might be worth a few dollars.”

Kirk had been listening with interest, but his thoughts were taking him in a slightly different direction. He interjected, “I suppose Vulcan corporations are run quite logically?”

“Yes, Captain, although the legal form of our businesses is based on clan ownership rather than stockholders. It is quite different. My own clan, or family, owns a substantial portion of Volcanic Labs, which is in direct competition with Johnson’s Pharmaceutical on some product lines.” The senior crew had realized Spock’s family was quite wealthy when they had learned Ambassador Sarek was his father during the eventful trip to Babel. Now they were unsurprised to hear of this further evidence of the family’s influence.

Spock continued, “The decisions of the business are always logically based, dependent upon not only economic conditions and market constraints, but the clan’s requirements as well. Non-profit-maximizing decisions are occasionally reached when the clan experiences no immediate material needs. In the past this has led to the development and distribution of the Sirian vaccine and the Vegan choriomeningitis serum, among others.”

“What!” McCoy was surprised. “You mean your family was responsible for Jim’s recovery from choriomeningitis?” He looked from one of his commanding officers to the other. A small smile was playing about Kirk’s mouth, and Spock’s face softened as he returned the captain’s gaze.

“I am pleased to be able to take partial credit for that success. I voted in my first conclave for the expenditure.”

Scotty spoke into the small silence. “And now I hear that Johnson’s is getting into politics, too. That Douglas Johnson fellow is anglin’ for a seat on the Federation Council, they say. He’s makin’ a big stir out in some of the human colonies.”

McCoy snapped his fingers. “That’s right, I read about that too. He’s just a trouble-maker, though. Nobody will listen to his brand of human supremacist bu…uh, baloney. This is a Federation we’re in, for God’s sake.”

“Nevertheless, Doctor, Douglas Johnson already has a considerable following,” Spock said smoothly. “At this point in time, it is difficult to predict who the eventual Federation representative will be. If Johnson does not gain the seat, he will have achieved a substantial political base from which to work in the future. I find the situation somewhat troubling.”

With that pronouncement, Spock returned his attention to the fruit sections on his plate, and a small silence descended over the table. Kirk took another gulp of coffee, then turned to McCoy. “How are the physicals going, Bones?” His voice was lowered, and had that “back to business” tone.

McCoy spread his hands, a fork clutched in one of them. “Doing the best we can, Jim. The flu is abating some, so we’re able to devote a little more time to the sampling. But so far, everyone’s clean.” He paused to chew thoughtfully on a piece of soy cake. “I suppose we can’t just search crew quarters for the stuff?”

“I doona think that’s wise, Doctor,” Scotty exclaimed softly. “Besides, a tech like Cr’tur could have found a hundred, nae a thousand hiding places in the ship for a small package. We could search for months, nae find a thing, and turn the whole crew upside down in the process. No,” he said, returning to his oatmeal, “I doona think that would be a wise thing to do.”

McCoy shrugged and placed his napkin on his plate. “Yeah, crew morale would suffer, all right. Well, it was just an idea. But I can’t help feeling we should be doing more.” He looked at the captain next to him.

Kirk was decisive. “Not until we have more to go on, Bones. Cr’tur could have been all alone in this. I won’t disrupt the ship on a supposition with no evidence. Of course,” he turned to his friend with a challenging smile, “if you have any bright ideas you can always pass them on.”

“Right. Well, I’ll think of it while I’m busy with your sick crew today.” McCoy looked disgusted.

The four men rose to return their trays. As they left the mess, Scotty said to Kirk, “Sir, if you’ve a few minutes later on, I’d like to talk about a new technician for Engineering. There’s one in Maintenance who needs promoting….

Kirk threw Spock a wild glance. The first officer was staring intently at the floor as they walked, but one corner of his mouth twitched for an instant. Satisfied, Kirk returned his attention to the engineer, who was saying, “A bonnie fine lass, she is….”

 

*****

 

The Johnson Combine’s Agricultural Colony #7 was an unpopulated, desert-like planet, and Kirk didn’t like it. The sun shone a too-bright hot white, bouncing off the sandy soil and making him squint. Rows of low-growing spreading plants stretched as far as the eye could see. Monotonous. No imagination. Like, he thought ungenerously, what working for the giant corporation that owned this planet must be like.

As he, Spock, and medtech Harless walked the short distance from the beam down point to the entrance of the underground administrative center, not even a breath of air moved to cool his already sweating body. Thank God he only had to greet the planetary administrator, make the appropriate polite noises, and escape back to the ship. Spock would work on the malfunctioning computer, and Harless could handle the required medical check-ups for the few workers on the planet. The captain just had to make an appearance. It had been hard enough convincing Bones he was well enough to go through decontamination and take in a change of scene. Now he wished he had stayed in bed.

Administrator Johnson was standing at the tunnel entrance to greet them, and politely escorted them down the gently descending slope. He was a thin, pasty-faced human of indeterminate age, with narrow pinched features. Kirk guessed that he was probably older than he seemed to be. The man’s maroon shirt was shot with gold thread, and his fingers sparkled with rings. Several of them. A bit pretentious for such an out of the way planet, Kirk thought. Or maybe it was all put on to impress visitors?

As Johnson explained that the rest of the complex’s personnel were waiting in the main room one level down, his self-important tones matched his dress exactly. Kirk wondered if Johnson were one of the combine’s hereditary stockholders and he’d been exiled for some unconventional behavior. Or maybe the name was just a coincidence. Then again, he thought with amusement, perhaps Ag Colony #7 was a management training program.

Johnson ceased his monologue and raised his voice to introduce the three of them to the group of thirty people standing in the common room. Harless immediately began scheduling the group for his exams, and Spock moved off to the computer controls evident along one wall. Kirk was left with nothing more to do than listen to the overbearing Johnson.

“You will find that we have extended the cultivated area even beyond what we had planned this first year, Captain. The tuvis and barcot plants have taken to this environment better than expected, and we have great hopes of making this entire planet into a top producer. We have found that the soil of this planet….”

Kirk nodded sagely, trying to project an appearance of interest as he listened, and wondering when he could politely take his leave. Under other circumstances he might have appreciated the enthusiasm and pride Johnson was displaying for what his people had accomplished here, but right now Kirk’s head was beginning to ache, and he could still feel the sweat uncomfortably drying beneath his shirt. Besides, he thought somewhat resentfully, wasn’t this Johnson laying it on a bit thick? There was a note of calculation, even insincerity, which seemed to be underlying the man’s enthusiastic words. As if he were, Kirk groaned to himself, yet another being intent on impressing a starship captain.

Kirk realized that the administrator had just said, “We would have had another entire section planted if we had not experienced problems with our irrigation computer,” and that a reply was obviously expected.

“Yes, I heard about your difficulties.”

Johnson seemed not to have noticed Kirk’s wandering, or had decided to sublimely disregard it, for he continued, “We are deeply grateful for your offered assistance with the computer, although I see that you are expecting another Vulcan to repair it. I would not have recommended it, although you are limited in your own personnel, of course. Our resident experts are also Vulcans, and they have been unable to correct the problem. I should have known they were not the skilled employees they claimed to be, but this far out in Federation space I was forced to take whatever was available at the time when our original experts left.”

Kirk eyed the man with distaste, but again Johnson didn’t seem to notice. He went on, “Despite their supposed excellent credentials, neither Stonn nor T’Pring have been able to—”

“What?!” Kirk’s intense gaze riveted on the administrator. “Who…?” He paused, uncharacteristically at a loss for words. It couldn’t be. That would be too much of a coincidence.

He found his voice. “Who did you say your computer experts were?”

Johnson took a stately breath. “Our two computer experts are Stonn and his wife, T’Pring, Vulcans who have agreed to serve for a six month period of time. As I have already stated, they have proven to be most unsatisfactory, for….”

This had to be a bad dream. Halfway across the galaxy from Vulcan, and Spock had to meet his ex-wife and her-erstwhile champion. Kirk looked about the room frantically for his first officer, and spotted him just as another tall form separated himself from the crowd of people and walked towards Spock. The form was closely followed by a female of unsurpassing grace.

“If you don’t mind, Mr. Johnson,” Kirk interrupted the man’s continuing rambling and turned on his most ingratiating smile, “I would like to discuss the computer repairs with my first officer.” He patted Johnson’s arm and fairly dashed across the room. He arrived just as the three Vulcans came to face one another.

Kirk didn’t know what to expect. Would Spock even speak to these people? In the nearly two years since their emergency trip to Vulcan, Spock had not mentioned the events there, or T’Pring’s name. Kirk could only guess at the hurt his friend had hidden behind the stoic facade.

Spock’s mask was very much in evidence now, for he was staring expressionlessly at Stonn, and had not yet even glanced at T’Pring.

The short silence was awkward, and Kirk was tempted to speak up. But as soon as the thought occurred he subdued it. For once his duty was not to lead, but to follow.

Then Stonn spoke through an expression as blank as Spock’s, but his tone was abrupt and his voice too loud.

“My bondmate,” Kirk inwardly cringed at these first words, “and I serve this colony with technical assistance. The irrigation computer has proven to be a challenge beyond our current capabilities. Administrator Johnson led us to believe an expert from the starship would be able to correct the problem. Will you,” that was a challenge if Kirk had ever heard one, “be the one to examine it?”

So, Kirk thought, tightening his fists in anger, we maintain the illusion of logic, but discard traditional courtesy. Storm had not even offered the customary salute, nor acknowledged his own presence.

Kirk wrestled with his anger and swallowed hard. This was Spock’s response to make, and his own anger was irrelevant to whatever decisions Spock was coming to now. Whatever Spock concluded, Kirk knew he would support him. He began to review the other healthy computer experts on the ship.

But they would not be needed. Spock’s expression softened, and he nodded slowly, with perfect courtesy, first to Stonn, then to T’Pring. Not a Vulcan salute, but a courteous acknowledgment nevertheless. “I will examine the computer.” The deep voice had taken on an additional timbre. “If you will show me the relevant hardware.” He gestured politely to the others to precede him.

Kirk thought he had never seen anything so admirable as that small controlled movement. It was a moment of triumphant forgiveness. Not all the hurts inflicted on a half-breed growing up in a rigid society, not a father’s eighteen year rejection, not even T’Pring’s most intimate of all denials had succeeded in hardening his friend. Spock had not been molded into a stone-hearted Vulcan, or into a heartless human cynic. His friend had more than the strength to endure, he was also secure enough to forgive, even in the face of Stonn’s provocation.

And in that moment, Kirk thought, he had never loved his friend more.

 

*****

 

An hour later Spock had pinpointed the hardware malfunction, components were strewn across the floor, and Kirk was firmly ensconced in a chair by his side. He had resisted Spock’s attempt to dislodge him, professing an intense interest in the computer repair, and intending to act as a buffer between the Vulcans. Spock merely lifted an eyebrow at his commanding officer’s sudden decision to remain on the planet, but Kirk thought he detected an understanding gleam in his eye. Spock had then quietly asked T’Pring to “Procure a chair for Captain Kirk, he has been ill recently,” and though Kirk’s pride flared with the words, he had wearily seated himself.

The four of them spoke only as needed, and for the most part Kirk found himself staring at Spock’s and Stonn’s feet sticking out from under the machine. T’Pring was stationed above making adjustments in the controls on an instrument board. The arrangement gave Kirk an opportunity to study the woman. She was taller than he remembered, and the plain gray coverall she wore was unflattering. But even with her unadorned hair swept tightly back she was beautiful. And she had an innate grace even when she occasionally bent to retrieve something for Stonn. Then Spock called for a tool, and Kirk found himself in a ridiculous race with the woman to obtain it. She eyed him levelly and yielded, murmuring, “Of course,” whether to him or herself, he did not know.

He became suddenly furious. Icy bitch! “Of course” indeed. What the hell did she mean, “Of course”?

He gave her as baleful a look as he could manage as he returned to his post in the chair, but she only gazed at him indifferently, then turned back to her board. Thank God Spock had not bonded with her. She would never have been able to give Spock what he needed. Her body might have cooled the fires of pon farr, but what of the gentle spirit in his friend that needed nurturing? Spock had so much of beauty to offer to a mate, so much that patience and time with his captain had revealed. It would be criminal, Kirk decided, to waste that beautiful spirit on anyone who didn’t appreciate his friend. Or worse, on one who would only try to crush it.

But that led his thoughts in another direction, one he had tried to ignore for almost two years. Bones had said it, they had no way of knowing when Spock’s biological cycle would reassert itself. His hybrid physiology ticked according to its own clock, and seven years to the next pon farr might turn into three, or ten.

Kirk stared at the soles of Spock’s boots, still under the machinery. What would happen then? He fervently hoped Spock could find someone to love, who loved him, and who understood the delicate intricacies of the gentle soul. Like he did. Someone who would appreciate Spock for what he was, and not try to change him. Someone who would leave him free to pursue his career in Starfleet. Certainly, he glanced at the woman again, T’Pring did not fill this wish list. But somebody somewhere did, they had to.

Sighing, Kirk studied T’Pring’s profile, and consciously backed away from his emotional reverie. He wondered what had brought the two Vulcans to Colony #7; perhaps they had been ostracized for daring to challenge. Kirk examined that thought hopefully, then reluctantly decided it wouldn’t be logical. Besides, it had never seemed logical to him that the kaliffee was the only way for Vulcans to divorce. There must be lots of divorced Vulcans around, not everyone could be compatible, could they? Bones had agreed with him, and they had wondered if the kaliffee challenge were used only when the male was in pon farr. Kirk had never had the nerve to ask Spock.

He watched as Spock unfolded his long frame from under the computer, and his strong fingers as they flicked over the control panel. Apparently satisfied with its performance, Spock glanced at Stonn and then started to reassemble the side panels.

Stonn now stood next to the computer, his arms hanging loosely at his side, hands open with the fingers unfurled. Nevertheless, there was an air of tautness in the rest of the Vulcan frame, as if he were willing his body to exhibit the symptoms of unconcern. Control, Kirk suddenly realized. He wondered what was going to happen now, and slowly eased out of his chair. He felt stiff and tired, an aftermath of the flu, but he was perfectly capable of reacting to whatever Stonn had in mind.

Spock must have sensed the new tension in the silence. He straightened and as always turned first towards his captain with an inquiring eye.

“Wife, leave us.” Storm and T’Pring exchanged a long look before she bowed her head and glided away.

Kirk’s captain’s persona slipped smoothly into place. He stepped forward, Spock stepped back and to his side. They were once again the finest team in Starfleet.

“What do you have to say?” Kirk tried to keep the antagonism out of his voice.

“I have asked my bondmate to leave to avoid any unnecessary emotional complications in what must be a logical discussion.” Stonn looked pointedly at Kirk, who withstood the gaze with a defiantly raised chin. “We have observed certain actions on this colony which require a report to Starfleet authorities.” He eyed them both with obvious distaste. “It is unfortunate that the _Enterprise_ was the ship sent here, I had no desire to renew acquaintance with either of you. But my duty is clear, and what is, cannot be changed.”

Get to the point, Kirk silently urged. Was long-windedness a general Vulcan characteristic?

“And what do you need to report?” he encouraged.

“We have learned that certain leaders of this colony expect to make a clandestine shipment of some substance to your ship. This is unsurprising, since it is obvious to us that this planet is being used for purposes other than merely agricultural.”

Spock queried smoothly, “And what evidence do you have for this accusation?”

“These humans,” Stonn gestured widely to encompass the whole colony, “are not familiar with Vulcan hearing. They assume all are as they are. T’Pring and I have overheard a conversation concerning the _Enterprise_. Also, we have heard spacecraft in the atmosphere, and yet only a few come to land at the colony’s space pad. A few weeks ago, a luxury craft visited, but the passengers were careful to keep their identities a secret except to the colony’s leaders. And those leaders are occasionally absent on inspection tours which are too lengthy. It is not logical. Such activities lead to distasteful speculations.”

Kirk did not need to hear any more. He pulled out his communicator.

“Kirk to _Enterprise_.”

“Scott here.”

“Mr. Scott, post a security detail in all the transporter rooms, including cargo transporters. Make sure that nothing is brought aboard the ship without our knowledge. Check to see if there has been any transporter activity, other than the landing party, since we’ve been in range of the planet. Report to me once you know. Kirk out.”

He turned to Stonn again. “Do you have any idea what they were going to beam aboard?”

“Neither T’Pring nor I are familiar with the term, but they used the expression TNT. Does this have meaning for you?”

Kirk fought the impulse to roll his eyes at Stonn’s ignorance, but felt a surge of satisfaction that they were getting more information about the mystery on the ship. Security’s search of Tech Cr’tur’s quarters had yielded only a very small cache of the drug. Bones’ physicals were only half through and had so far revealed no other drug users. Now someone planned to have more TNT transported to his ship.

Ignoring Stonn’s question, Kirk asked, “What are your speculations about the visitors?”

“The leadership of this colony is obviously involved in something they wish to keep secret. Smuggling is one possibility. Another is some sort of political action, perhaps even legitimate, undertaken by the Johnson Family. They are most powerful.”

Spock was quick to add, “The presence of the drug on the colony and evident intention to have it beamed to the _Enterprise_ would preclude any innocent action.”

“This seems likely,” Stonn acknowledged.

Kirk was not satisfied. They needed more information.

“As of right now, we have a lot of speculation and no real evidence of any crime, or even threat.” He looked levelly at Stonn. Regardless of his personal feelings about this man, he was a Federation citizen, and deserved protection. He and that icy bondmate of his. “Do you believe you are in danger here? Would you like to leave with us on the ship, or would you be willing to stay and gather more information?”

Stonn took a moment to consider, looking speculatively at the captain. “I had not expected your offer of transportation. But I do not believe we would be any safer on board your vessel, as our flight could be taken to mean discovery of the conspiracy. If there is a conspiracy. I have also considered the possibility that T’Pring and I have misinterpreted events here, through our inexperience in dealing with emotional beings.” He turned, and looked down the corridor where T’Pring had retreated. “My bondmate and I are contracted for another four months work here. Our skills are needed on this planet. If we are threatened,” he took a breath, and looked again at Kirk with proud eyes, “these humans will find that a Vulcan clan is also powerful.”


	3. Chapter 3

Captain’s Log. Stardate 5707.4

_On course, ahead of schedule to Arcanis 6 where the _Enterprise_ will up medical supplies for transfer to the Potemkin upon rendezvous. We’ve stopped briefly to allow Mr. Spock and Mr. Scott to inspect the outside hull as part of our preparation for the Mid-Mission Review._

_We uncovered no evidence of the transportation of the illegal drug TNT to the _Enterprise_ from Johnson’s Colony #7. Since there was ample time to effect the transfer before we guarded the transporters, and since there are no transporters on the planet, it is possible that the contact on the ship may have been seriously ill from the flu, and unable to move freely. If so, this at least narrows our field of suspects to about forty of my crew. But someone was due to receive that shipment._

_The Vulcan citizens Stonn and T’Pring have volunteered to remain on the colony and gather information about any illegal activity. If they feel they are in danger, they will signal for help by sabotaging the computer systems, forcing Johnson to call for assistance._

_Finally, we have uncovered another TNT user, although the circumstances are puzzling. Ensign L’Karandos reported to sickbay complaining of repeated attacks of dizziness and disorientation. Examination showed traces of TNT in her bloodstream, although Dr. McCoy assures me that her Vegan physiology is so different from a human’s that an actual addiction is impossible. He doubts even if she could have experienced any kind of high normally associated with the drug. The ensign vehemently denies using the drug and I am inclined to believe her. Dr. McCoy agrees, and speculates that doses of the drug could have been added to her food or drink. But that does not answer the question: why?_

_At least we now know that deceased Technician Cr’Tur was not the Ag Colony’s contact on this ship. Someone else is still in possession of a dangerous drug on the _Enterprise_. _

****

Spock took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the scene about him before firing his suit jets to accompany Mr. Scott. They were in an area of space with very little interstellar dust, so the stars shone with incredible brilliance. Immediately before him was a trinary system which shone white hot, yellow, and dull red, their points of light emphasized by the velvety blackness about them. Far off to starboard, he knew he would see his own home system of Eridani, if he cared to look for it, but Spock did not turn towards the giant binary stars that had cradled the Vulcan race. Instead, he chose to contemplate what immediate space offered him, and attempted to absorb its compelling song.

A red giant hung off the port nacelle, bathing the _Enterprise_ with an eerie glow that eclipsed the ship’s running lights. The star had a full system of planets, and Spock easily spotted a ringed one just ten million kilometers away. There were small dots of darkness marring the striped, colorful surface here and there. He automatically calculated the positions of the satellites that made the shadows, and located them one by one. It would have been interesting, and aesthetically pleasing, to watch the moons move in their solitary ballet above the planet’s surface, but Spock had no time now for an extended survey. His attention shifted to the rest of the system.

Asteroids in a belt several million kilometers away flickered in the starlight as they twisted and turned in endless orbit. These evidences of planetary evolution gone awry could be found in more than half of all explored systems, and so were a navigational problem with which all spacefarers were familiar. Spock allowed himself to see them now not as the equations that represented their orbits, but as shimmering points of light on the largest of all created canvases. Their forms filled a soul always ready to appreciate beauty.

By slightly turning his head, he could see the plane of the Milky Way galaxy stretched across one-third of his vision in a shimmering arc. When Spock had been a child growing within the austere confines of Vulcan society, he had been fascinated by the sight of his home galaxy stretched across the sky. “Rains Upon the Desert Sands,” that most unusual of all occurrences, that was what his ancient forebears had christened the sprinkling of light. The unaccepted, desperately lonely little boy had learned to lose himself within the starry vision, and dream dreams that he had thought as unlikely to be fulfilled as the ancient rains upon the barren landscape had been. Until the day he had had the courage to leave his home planet, and make the dreams a reality.

Spock reached out one hand to steady himself against the airlock door, and used the leverage to turn his suit ninety degrees to port. He found himself facing a relatively barren section of the sky, with just a dusting of stars to break the darkness. There. One insignificant yellow star, barely visible. Sol. The birthplace of humans, and one-half of himself. A race of emotional, impetuous, courageous, often inexplicable beings, people he felt he was only just now beginning to understand. A race that had so very much to offer. They were…fascinating. Sol. Jim’s birthplace.

Jim. Spock knew that when he next engaged in meditation, it would not be the beauty of the stellar canvas that came to his mind, but Jim. His captain had been much in his thoughts lately, even breaching the strict controls of meditative reflection. And Spock had not always pushed such thoughts away; occasionally he had reveled in them, in the joy that having such a friend brought him. There was such…such ease between the two of them. Such comfort when he was in Jim’s presence. Spock had no idea if these feelings were typical of any close friendship between humans. He had had friends before, but none of his relationships could ever have been characterized as close. Nothing approached the relationship he shared with his captain.

At the expression of the word “shared” in his mind, Spock experienced a peculiar warming sensation in his chest. He immediately suppressed it, but catalogued it quite accurately as pleasure. He had felt it before, many times, quite often in conjunction with Jim’s presence or thoughts of his captain. It could not be denied, and it seemed illogical to do so, although of course the expression of such a feeling would be inappropriate. But within his own self, Spock acknowledged it. Pleasure. Because he and Jim shared this friendship. It was something they did together.

This special affinity between them had been apparent to Spock for quite some time. It had astonished him at first, for he had not believed himself capable of responding in such a way to a human. But logic had forced him to assess the situation dispassionately and acknowledge the truth. Now the same logic told him that something had changed between them. The meld on Melkot had been the catalyst. He had felt the wonder in Jim’s mind at the time, and had matched it with his own. If they had been friends before, they had never really acknowledged it to one another openly. The acts of understanding, the evenings spent together, the teamwork during a hazardous mission, all had been accomplished without open acknowledgment of the deep feelings between them.

The meld had changed that, and Spock now had to contend with the emotions the new understanding between them engendered. A difficult task, but one he undertook gladly. To have such a friend….

But now was not the time for such contemplations. Spock brought his thoughts back to the stars, surveying once again their sparkling beauty. Their peace settled over him, matching the soul-deep satisfaction his thoughts about Jim had brought. All that he had observed was bathed in the deep silence of interstellar space. Except, of course, he admitted logically, for the sound of his own breathing. He noticed that the suit had a slightly musty odor to it, and made a mental note to speak with Fraser about inefficient suit maintenance. The transition back to first officer was complete.

He took another moment to imprint the scene before him into his eidetic memory for his next meditative session, for it would have been illogical not to acknowledge such beauty, then turned his suit to locate Scott. Spock could see his red form already jetting towards the nacelle intake, and with one lingering look at the asteroids’ sparkling display, he followed.

Scott’s voice crackled over the intercom just as he reached the engine strut. “Ach, look at this, Mr. Spock, we’ll have to get the lads and lassies out to repair this.” The suited arm gestured in slow motion to a small blackened area on the upper strut.

“Deflector error?” Spock speculated. Occasionally the automatic deflector shields allowed space debris to impact the ship, usually during the delicate transition between warp and normal space. The minimal damage on the strut was one of the penalties ships paid for interstellar travel.

They moved slowly over the ship’s hull, occasionally actually landing on the white surface to inspect some minute flaw. As they jetted under the main saucer, Scotty could not hide his pride.

“Ah, she’s in bonnie shape, isn’t she, Mr. Spock? The captain’ll have nae to worry about when the admiral comes calling.”

Spock answered with a preoccupied grunt. The light from the red giant nearby seemed to be blurring his vision, and he was feeling light-headed. He wondered if he were finally succumbing to the flu virus. The saucer’s hull was but a short distance above them and he focused on it intently. Was that a break in the surface? Although he was moving towards it, it still seemed to be very far away. He blinked, and then what looked like a small black gash grew alarmingly until blackness filled his vision.

Spock shook his head and blinked back to the sight of the entire saucer section, with no break apparent. He was obviously not well. Ill personnel should not be conducting extra-vehicular activity. He took a deep breath preparatory to informing Scott of his condition, but as he did the air seemed to burn deep into his lungs. He gasped, feeling the pain spread all through his chest and up into his suddenly constricted throat. His air passage seemed to narrow down to nothing, and he heaved for a breath of air. Gratitude filled him when oxygen forced its way through the abraded tissue, but the pain in his chest persisted. There was something seriously wrong with him. He must inform Scott.

Then Spock’s vision began to spin crazily, and bright flashes of light rotated before his disoriented eyes. He closed them tightly, but the crazy colors and lights followed him into the darkness. His sense of disorientation grew, and nausea began to build. What could be happening to him?

Spock forced himself to look for the _Enterprise_ in some attempt to stabilize his spinning senses. She loomed before him, but the white of the ship’s hull expanded until it filled his entire vision. Could that motion to one side be the engineer? Spock tried to speak, but his chest was still heaving, and pain was taking over all his air passages. He wanted to move, to wave an arm to gain attention, but his arms seemed curiously dislocated from the rest of his body. A new pain started just below his left shoulder and traveled with lightning swiftness down one arm. The fingers stiffened and spasmed in reaction, as if he had been suddenly jolted with a deadly stream of electricity. His vision cleared with the agonizing pain, and he watched in amazement as his arm flapped up and down of its own accord. This should not be happening! Surely these were not the symptoms of the flu, or was his hybrid physiology to betray him again?

Spock’s chest and stomach seemed to constrict together, and he gasped in a burning mouthful of air in reaction. His body had tried to double over, but had been restricted by the limited mobility afforded by the space suit. Everything he did seemed to be in reaction to the sudden pain that was convulsing his body. Spock felt out of control. He fought panic. He could not trust the input of his senses. They were overwhelmed by flashing lights and colors, humming that filled his ears, a sickening odor that added to his nausea….

Suddenly a green haze passed before him. It was not a hallucination; his nose was bleeding copiously. Sluggishly, Spock tried to bring up one hand to wipe the green away, and was startled when his glove banged uselessly against the facemask. He jerked back and hit his head against the back of his helmet.

The noise and surprise shocked him back to reality, and he clutched at its tattered shreds. Think. Analyze. Act. Breathing worsened his condition. His lungs were abraded and heaving. Mental acuity was suspect. The musty smell in his suit was over-powering….

Suddenly his condition became clear, but his body was past control and he could not force words from his spasming air passage. How much time did he have? Every breath brought him closer to death, but he desperately needed to breathe, and he desperately wanted to live.

Spock fought down panic and reinstated controls with a mighty effort. _The mind controls_ a small voice echoed from somewhere beyond the swirling lights. He could not stop breathing, but he could slow his respiration in a trance state, and perhaps give Scott enough time to save him. Would he be able to? Was there enough time? To leave life just as the gray was lifting and the light was beginning to shine? He tried to force his lips to move, but the red giant haze started to spin with the green, then he knew no more.

 

****

 

The inspection was over, but Scott continued to gaze upwards at the underside of the saucer as they jetted by. They were heading for the hanger deck airlock at the aft end of the ship, and their path would give him a second look at the ship’s entire port side. No harm in double checking, he thought, especially with an admiral due in a few weeks. But, as he had just mentioned to Spock, they had a ship to be proud of.

A motion at the extreme left range of his vision caught his eye. He turned his head down and to the side within the suit and gaped. The normally so-controlled first officer was wildly gesturing with one arm, flapping like a half-witted bird.

“Mr. Spock?” the engineer asked loudly, turning his intercom control up to high with a twist of his chin. “Mr. Spock, what is it, sir?” There was no response, but the continued strange, spasmodic jerking of the limbs.

He grew concerned. Why didn’t Spock answer’? Could there be a suit malfunction…? But no. He quickly ran a check of his suit’s circuits, and confirmed that his built-in communicator, at least, was working perfectly. Now he could clearly hear a rasping breath being drawn. Perhaps the internal stabilizing system had malfunctioned….

The engineer tried again. “Mr. Spock? Answer me, sir, if you can!”

There was no reply.

Scott heard a strangled gasp over the opened line. Something was clearly wrong. He thumbed the com-link to the ship on his wrist while appraising the distance between them.

“Scott to bridge.”

“Uhura here, Mr. Scott.”

“Lieutenant, we’re having a little problem here….” Scott paused, unsure of what to say. “Mr. Spock’s nae answering my hail, and he’s actin’ a bit strange. Can ye get through to him?”

“I’ll try, Scotty,” Uhura’s concerned voice answered immediately, and Scotty heard her opening another line and calling. He kept his eye on the suited figure, still jerking oddly. He maneuvered just a bit closer, fingering the hooking mechanism at the suit’s waist that might be needed.

On the bridge, Uhura looked towards the center seat as she started to call for the first officer. Kirk had turned his chair towards the communications station and watched. After the first three signals remained unanswered, he frowned, and walked up towards her.

A blunt finger depressed the button she had just abandoned. “Kirk to Spock, Kirk to Mr. Spock. Come in, First Officer.”

This close to the com speaker, the rasping of respiratory distress came through clearly. Kirk’s forehead furrowed.

“Are you sure his equipment is functioning? He can answer?”

“Yes, sir. It checks out. That sounds like coughing to me. Maybe he’s just come down with a bad case of the flu, suddenly.” Uhura’s explanation was tentative, her big dark eyes looking up at her captain.

Kirk sounded very determined. “Tell Scotty to bring him in.”

Uhura’s voice filtered back to Scotty, who was still watching the suited body moving erratically in the starlight. “We’re not getting anything, Mr. Scott. A lot of coughing. He’s not responding to the Hail at all. The captain says to bring him in.” Worry flavored her words.

“All reet, then,” Inside the suit, Scotty’s eyes narrowed. “Ah’ll hook him up.” It was the only safe way of dealing with inanimate objects, or unconscious spacemen, in weightless conditions.

“Right, Scotty.” It was the captain’s strong voice that responded. Scotty wasn’t surprised. Kirk was almost always on the bridge during an extra-vehicular walk. “We’ll have McCoy standing by.”

As Scott’s hand reached for the magnetic hook that would lock the two suits together, he saw the Vulcan’s figure heave in a convulsive jerk. Arms flailed even more wildly than before, both came together like a scissors before the spasming body. A gloved hand obviously brushed against the suit wrist controls. Before Scotty’s horrified eyes, Spock rocketed directly towards the sensor dish at the end of the Engineering hull.

“Holy Mother! He’s hit the thrusters!” The engineer frantically dropped the hooking mechanism half deployed and fumbled for his own controls.

“Scotty!” Kirk was demanding. “What’s going on? Do you need help?”

“He’s gonna collide…. Nae! God damnit!” Scotty couldn’t spare the time or breath for more, there was no time to explain. The few seconds before he activated his thrusters seemed endless, but right before they engaged Scott thought he heard Spock’s whisper-thin voice sound in his ear. Then there was only the roar of the jets as they vibrated through the air in his suit.

On the bridge, everyone was looking towards Uhura, who had just connected with sickbay. Sulu’s deep voice asked, “Did I hear him say ‘collide’?”

Chekov hissed a little and made an involuntary movement with his hand against the console, otherwise there was silence.

Kirk stood stock still and rigid next to Uhura’s chair, his hands curled into tight fists, staring at her fingers as they rested against a button. He swallowed hard, and couldn’t help but see the grisly vision of other suit accidents he had witnessed over the years. God, no, not Spock! After impact, he wouldn’t even be able to recognize the body. No one could survive the sudden depressurization and biting cold of interstellar vacuum.

Almost by reflex, Kirk clamped down hard on the unnamed emotion that seemed like acid in the pit of his stomach. He had long ago learned to sublimate emotion in emergencies, and though it was hard, he could do it now. This choked feeling of dread and an unfamiliar almost-panic would not help. Maybe his command intuition could. Somehow.

Kirk stood poised, his body coiled for action like a tiger waiting for prey, utterly frustrated in his inability to affect the outcome of the drama being played out just outside the protective skin of the _Enterprise_. A drama that would be over in just seconds.

Scott’s voice sounded over the open line, calling out breathlessly, “I’ve got him!”

Kirk wasted no time. He almost lunged for the com console, and snapped out, “Scotty, what’s happened?”

There was the sound of a deep breath being drawn. “Captain, Mr. Spock seemed to have a seizure of some kind, and dinna have control of his suit. He looks….” Reluctance flavored every word. “Well, there’s blood all aboot the inside of the suit. It’s hard to tell…. Ah…. Ah…believe he’s unconscious, sir.”

Scotty didn’t have to spell it out. He obviously couldn’t bring himself to express his real fear, but everyone on the bridge heard it anyway.

Kirk had himself under steely control. His voice did not waver as he said, “We’ve got to get McCoy in on this. Lieutenant, patch him in. He should be at the hanger deck airlock by now.”

A moment later, the doctor was asking for Spock’s vital signs with grim determination.

Kirk listened to Scott’s report, concentrating hard. He heard Scotty grunt over the open com link, and then the soft hiss of the directional thrusters. The maneuvering required to bring the locked suits back to the hanger deck airlock seemed to be taking forever. He heard Bones ask, “Was Spock acting strangely before he passed out, Scotty? Did he say anything about how he felt?”

“Nay, doctor.” Scott’s voice was a little hoarse. “Ah thought ah heard him say ‘Enty’ right after he turned to the dish, but that doesn’t make sense, and ah might….”

“Enty!” Kirk interrupted Scott with a shout. “Bones, he’s been dosed with TNT! Scotty, there’s no time to lose. An overdose of that stuff could kill him. Prepare to be transported aboard. Bones, get to the main transporter room on the double. Uhura,” he turned urgently to the communications officer, but she anticipated him and already had an open line to Kyle. Kirk snapped out his instructions while he was striding towards the turbolift. “Uhura, you have the….” was cut off by the whispering doors.

 

****

 

This calm after the flurry of activity felt strange. He was still pumped full of adrenalin, and knew the urge to move, to make decisions, to do something. But it had all been done, and now Kirk could take the time to visit sickbay and wait for the results to come to him. He eyed the chair next to Spock’s bed with disfavor. Bones had probably put it there anticipating the captain’s visit, but there was no way he could sit with a threat to the ship still at large, and so much undecided. He contented himself with standing by the foot of the bed, where he had a clear view of his friend’s face.

He watched Spock take in slow rasping breaths, his chest heaving under the light blue sickbay cover. It had been close. Too damned close. Kirk closed his eyes and willed thought away. Don’t think of what might have been, he commanded himself. Don’t. Remember Bones’ voice over the intercom saying, “He’ll be all right, Jim,” remember the feeling of relief that flooded your body. Hold on to that.

Kirk opened his eyes and looked at Spock again. still

The nurses hadn’t cleaned all the blood from Spock’s face, and his bangs were splotched. The respirator was clamped tightly over his mouth, pressing against his cheeks and distorting the facial contours. A livid bruise graced one temple. An IV fed into one arm strapped down for immobility. Spock looked helpless, looked like hell, and Kirk raged against whoever had done this to his friend.

The duty nurse came over and removed the respirator, one eye on the readouts. She had a basin and cloth with her, and once satisfied with Spock’s breathing pattern, she started to bathe his face and hair. Her movements were deft, impersonal, but still her actions seemed too intimate for Kirk to see, and he looked away and shifted his feet. Bones and Psychologist Alfano should be reporting back to him soon. Kirk thought back over the steps he had taken, wanting to be sure he had done everything he could.

He had personally ripped the air filter packet from Spock’s suit as the first officer had lain unbreathing and white on the transporter room floor. He had been afraid that Spock was dead, and had vented his consuming rage on the little container of white crystals by throwing them against the wall. Then Spock had taken one slow unsteady breath just as McCoy and a med team had rushed in, and he was forced away while they worked on the unmoving form.

McCoy had taken Spock to sickbay then, and so Kirk and Scotty enlisted Kyle’s aid in checking through both spacesuits and taking them through decontamination. Fraser had turned white when Kirk had marched into his office, informed him of events and demanded immediate inspection of the other fourteen suits. Fraser, Scott, Kirk, and Kyle had gone through the fourteen themselves, and removed all the filter packs, but none had been sabotaged but Spock’s.

Just Spock’s. Someone had deliberately tried to kill the first officer. The spacesuits were used infrequently, but were contoured to specific body types and sizes. Spock always used red suit #9.

Even standing in the serene quiet of sickbay with Spock recovering before him, the thought sent a shiver through Kirk. The feeling was as much concern for his friend as it was anger at the threat to his ship. At least this event had narrowed the range of suspects. The shuttle bay was one of the secured areas of the ship. Only authorized personnel had access to the storage areas where the suits were kept. He and Scotty had compared the list of maintenance and shuttlebay personnel against those who had been incapacitated and under surveillance because of the flu during the visit to the Johnson agricultural colony. There were four names there, none of them very familiar to the captain. Obscure crewmen and women. Bones and Alfano were looking over their psychprofiles now, and Kirk had dispatched Security Chief Giotto to search their quarters.

A sudden movement from the figure on the bed interrupted his thoughts. Spock’s head tossed fitfully, and the readouts above him moved in different directions. The nurse eyed them carefully, then abruptly moved away. Kirk could only guess that she was notifying McCoy of Spock’s changed condition.

Kirk moved closer to Spock’s side as his head tossed again. He stilled, and then one fine hand slowly moved up to touch long fingers to the bruised temple. As it trembled there, the captain reached out and grasped Spock’s hand.

Eyes still tightly closed, Spock slowly turned his head and whispered, “Jim?”

Kirk winced at the hoarse voice and the breathlessness behind such a small word, but he wouldn’t let his friend know his concern.

“And who else would be holding your hand in the middle of sickbay?” he asked gently. As soon as he said it he was aware of how his words could be misconstrued, but he only tightened his hold against the warm fingers. Spock would know what he meant, and probably needed the comfort of this touch as much as Kirk did.

The brown eyes fluttered a few times as they struggled to open, then they settled on the captain’s face. Kirk felt something lurch inside of him. Spock’s gaze was so open and trusting. Dawning consciousness had given him no time to erect the walls that Vulcan training and human societal conventions demanded. Kirk felt that gentle gaze penetrate deep into his soul. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. He was drowning in the soft brown depths. For a brief moment of deja vu, Kirk wondered if they could possibly be sharing a meld again, as they had on Melkot. But no, the meld was a very unique experience, and Kirk could not feel the touch of Spock’s mind now. This was communication in a very human way, a trusting gaze and clasped hands, but it was conveying the same message of affection and acceptance as on that strange planet weeks ago.

Kirk blinked several times, then slowly brought their clasped hands up to his own chest, and whispered, “…just for a moment…I thought you were dead.”

There was silence as they continued to look at one another and Spock assimilated Kirk’s words. He licked his dry lips, and then the special smile that only Kirk regularly recognized appeared in his eyes. Spock pulled their hands down to his own chest and said in a thin reedy voice that Kirk had to lean in to hear, “I am pleased that I did not succumb.”

Kirk smiled then, blindingly, so happy that Spock was sufficiently himself to indulge in his own type of understated humor. He rubbed their hands back and forth against the sheet, and squeezed mightily, temporarily speechless. Spock, his special dry-witted Vulcan, was still here. He hadn’t lost him.

“I’m glad, too,” he whispered, and wondered how his heart would keep from bursting.

The moment was broken when McCoy came in. Kirk wondered if the doctor had delayed his entrance to allow captain and first officer a few quiet moments together. As patient and visitor looked up, their hands fell apart, and Kirk felt the cold intrusion of the real world again.

“So, you’re with the living, Spock, huh?” the doctor said as he moved to the bedside and scanned first Spock’s face and then the readout. “You’re still looking a little green, so don’t try to get up by yourself. And,” this as Spock opened his mouth to speak, “don’t try to say anything, because I’m sure your throat and chest hurt like hell.”

The first officer subsided back against the pillow, in truth grateful for the restrictions. He felt very weak.

“Do you need anything for pain?” McCoy queried. When Spock shook his head no, the doctor continued, “When I think you’re strong enough, I’ll let you go into one of your trances to heal some lung tissue, but not ‘til I say so, see?” He waggled a finger. McCoy was long familiar with Spock’s willfulness and impatience with sickbay procedures.

McCoy went on, “You can thank that Vulcan pharmaceutical company your family owns part of that you’re not on a wild TNT trip right now, and addicted too.” Kirk looked up questioningly, so McCoy explained further. “We used to combat the symptoms brought on by hallucinogens with a compound from Johnson Pharmaceutical, but it wasn’t too effective, especially on non-humans. Then last year the Vulcanir Labs came out with a much better one applicable to a wider range of races, and they really cornered the market.” McCoy’s attention returned to the patient and his hand went out to smooth the sheet. “Even with the drug, only that trance saved your life, Spock.” He cleared his throat, and tried to say offhandedly, “Smart thing to do.”

Kirk grinned from the other side of the bed. Bones would maintain his verbal battle with the first officer forever, and never admit to a thing, but there was a soft heart under the cynical exterior. Bones cared.

McCoy was looking at the readouts again. He asked gruffly, “Want some water?” At Spock’s nod, he moved to the portastand and poured out a glass. Kirk slid onto the bed and half lifted, half supported his friend into a sitting position so he could drink. McCoy threw the captain a quizzical look that Kirk barely saw. He was too busy feeling Spock lean back against him, totally trusting Kirk in his weakness in a way the captain knew no other being was trusted. It filled him with warmth, enhanced, he supposed, by the hot flesh pressed against his shoulder.

The intercom whistle sounded while Spock was drinking, and Kirk waited until he was finished before he eased the first officer down to the bed and moved over to the wall speaker.

“Giotto here, Captain. We’ve taken Technician Walls into custody. There was almost a kilogram of TNT in his quarters. Do you want to question him yourself, sir, or should I proceed?”

“You conduct the interrogation, Commander, but don’t start until we can discuss the things I’ll want to know. Hold on.” Kirk looked over to Bones and asked, “Do you have the psych profile report ready?” At the doctor’s nod, Kirk spoke again into the intercom grid. 

“I’ll there in fifteen minutes, Sam. Kirk out.”

The captain moved back to confront McCoy, brisk and business-like. “What did you find?” Before McCoy could speak, Spock raised a hand for their attention and said quietly, “Look for a prejudice…,” a deep breath, “against non-humans.” He was obviously exhausted, and spoke as sparingly as he could, as if each word hurt. His face was stark white against the pillow.

McCoy made an exclamation and turned to the portatray to pick up a hypo. As it hissed against an arm, he said with sour satisfaction, “I told you not to talk.” Spock’s eyes closed and his breathing evened.

McCoy motioned Kirk to his office, stopping to update the duty nurse on his way. As he settled behind the desk he said reflectively, “Sometimes I do believe that Vulcan thinks even when he’s unconscious.” McCoy looked closely at Kirk across the desk, “Could that be it, simply a case of xenophobia?”

“Bones, it couldn’t be. No xenophobes would be even considered for Starfleet duty. I thought your precious psych tests would pick up on something so obvious.” Kirk was disbelieving.

McCoy sat with his elbows on the desk, one finger tapping his teeth meditatively. “It’s not that simple, Jim, and you know it. People aren’t black and white, and they’re changing all the time. And no test can tell you everything. There was nothing in any of the psych profiles that Alfano and I looked at that would tag any of the four crewmembers as murderers, but then again, there was nothing that said they weren’t either.”

“Bones,” Kirk said threateningly, “you mean you found nothing at all?”

“Now hold on a minute and let me finish. When we looked at the duty records of the four, we saw that Walls had been granted a three month leave about eleven months ago. Remember?”

Kirk thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. He went to help his sister out of some financial difficulty, at least that’s what the leave request said. It’s not much, but it was the only possibility we found. If Spock’s right….”

Kirk took up the train of thought. “Then something happened during that leave to turn Walls against non-humans.” Kirk placed his elbows on the surface before him, and started to count off on his fingers. His face was grim. “Let’s look at what we have about non-humans on this ship. One, we have Cr’tur, in a sensitive Engineering position, addicted. He’s a D’L’Akat, humanoid but non-human. The potential for error by him is considerable, he could have really hurt the ship if hallucinating on duty. He almost did. The fact that the flu killed him may have actually dismayed whoever was supplying the drug. Implies an almost suicidal recklessness. Two, Ensign L’Karandos, a Vegan. She can’t get a high or become addicted to the drug, she just gets sick, but there’s no denying that there’s TNT in her bloodstream.”

Kirk was too excited by his analysis now to sit still, and he started to pace the small office. “Why would she bother? Indicates a lack of knowledge and sophistication by the saboteur. L’Karandos is the real tip-off. Without her we might have thought the TNT in Spock’s suit had been placed there by Cr’tur.”

“And Spock’s number three. Our half-Vulcan first officer.” Kirk paused in his pacing and swung around to face McCoy. “Do you know how many non-humans we have on board the _Enterprise_ , Doctor?”

“Course I do,” Bones growled. “I’ve always got to recalibrate for their physicals. Not many. We’ve got five, used to have six until that sweet Yeoman Lin….” His voice trailed off, and he looked at Kirk with wide eyes. “Yeoman Lin,” he whispered, “one-half Belurian.”

“I’d bet her accident was no accident.” Kirk’s voice was hard and his face was set. He pounded his fist into his palm. “Six non-humans, and four incidents. I should be court-martialed for missing the obvious. It was right in front of me all the time.” He took three quick strides to the intercom on McCoy’s desk.

“Kirk to bridge.”

“Uhura here, Captain.”

“Uhura, this is a priority. Do whatever you have to in order to get information on Tech David Walls’ sister, especially whatever you can find on her during the past year. Use planetary records, talk to her and her parents and spouse by subspace, whatever you have to and as fast as you can.”

“Aye-aye, sir, I’ll get on it right away.” Uhura’s voice remained unruffled, despite the surprising assignment she’d just been given. Kirk knew she had contacts Federation-wide, as any good communications officer should, and could find her way around bureaucratic red tape better than anyone. If anyone could find obscure information, she could. He took a moment to appreciate her efficiency.

“Good, Lieutenant. Before you start, patch me through to Giotto.”

There was a moment’s silence, then, “Giotto here.”

“Sam, get one of your Security people to start talking to Walls’ friends on the ship. I want to know what happened during his extended leave this year, and what his attitude towards non-humans is. Put your best on it and push hard. I’ll be right down.”

Kirk thumbed the intercom off and looked hard at McCoy. “What I don’t understand is how the Ag Colony fits into this. What possible connection could Walls have with the Johnson Combine, or even the administrative leaders of the colony? It doesn’t fit. Would Stonn have lied?”

There was silence while the two men pondered possibilities, then Kirk shrugged and started out the door. “We’re speculating in a vacuum. I’ll let you know what we find out from Walls. In the meantime,” he turned and stood in the doorway, “take good care of Spock,” and was gone.

McCoy remained seated. He contemplated his knuckles, then looked up and stared at the closed door. He had wanted to give first officer and captain some quiet moments, and had seen the two together when he entered Spock’s room. Now he wondered at his own motives. He softly said to himself, “Jim, you meant to say, ‘take good care of Spock for me,’ right?” He shook his head and addressed the universe at large. “I wonder what the hell is going on?”

 

****

 

“Do you believe him?”

“I don’t have much choice. The verifier scan said he was telling the truth.” Still, Kirk sounded doubtful.

McCoy snorted. “Yeah, well, sometimes you just don’t know the right questions to ask. And we’ve had people beat the scan before.”

The two officers were walking down the corridor towards the turbolift to the bridge. After several hours had passed, Kirk had reported to McCoy, as promised, about the results of the interrogation, managing to check in on Spock in the process. McCoy had made his usual grumpy comments about Vulcan physiology, and declared the first officer fit for his next duty shift.

“His story does seem far-fetched.”

They paused before the lift. “The only part that rings true to me is Walls’ hatred of non-humans.” McCoy lifted one hand in mock self-defense. “Don’t give me that look. What I mean is that at least he had a motive. His sister marrying an Andorian, and then being abandoned on a mining planet when she turned up pregnant. Walls bringing her back to Earth for medical care, and then seeing her die because of a mixed race pregnancy anyway. At least he had a reason, however much we disapprove of it.”

The lift arrived, and they both entered it. Kirk continued. “But this story about just getting the TNT in the mail one day, and the anonymous suggestions on how to use it when he got back to the _Enterprise_. How artificial can you get? Yet he swears he doesn’t know who sent it to him, and much as I’d like to accuse him of lying, the verifier said he wasn’t.” Kirk passed a hand over his face. “I don’t like it. It means there was somebody else behind Walls, somebody who has it in for the _Enterprise_.”

“Or the non-human personnel on board the _Enterprise_ ,” McCoy corrected.

Kirk gave him a hard stare. “Or maybe just one in particular. Spock, or L’Karandos. The rest could just be a smoke-screen.”

McCoy pondered that piece of speculation in silence for a moment. “But how do we find out, if even Walls doesn’t know?”

Kirk’s eyes narrowed in frustration. “Bones, I don’t know. This information from Stonn about the Ag Colony, I’d say that it should tie in somehow, but we can’t find a connection between Walls and the Colony, the Johnson Combine, or anyone currently on the planet. And Walls does say that he doesn’t know anyone there, and the verifier scan proves it.”

McCoy was rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Here’s an idea. Suppose the information we got really was a smokescreen, but that information is what you heard from Stonn. Maybe this is a Vulcan grudge we’re dealing with here.”

“Stonn? What possible reason could he have for hurting Spock? He got what he wanted.” Kirk’s voice was bitter.

“But T’Pring humiliated him by not picking him for her champion,” McCoy countered. “And besides, the one thing I know for sure about non-human psychology is that we can’t use human motives to explain it. There’s more about Vulcans that we don’t know than we do. There could be some perfectly logical explanation for Stonn to attack the _Enterprise_ crew, at least from a nonhuman perspective.”

Kirk appeared to consider the suggestion for a moment, then shook his head. “We don’t have any more evidence for that than we do for any other scenario. I hate to say it, but we’ll have to see if Starfleet can get more out of Walls than we have.” He looked at McCoy. “You know we already dropped him off at Arcanis 6 just a few hours ago? We picked up the medical supplies the Potemkin needs. Giotto sent a few of his people along to escort him on to Starbase 15.”

McCoy nodded. “We don’t really have the facilities for interrogation like a starbase does. Aren’t we headed out to Beta Aurigae for something or other?”

Kirk shot him an amused glance. “Yes, Bones. Some gravitational studies. But first, the rendezvous with the Potemkin.

The turbo doors swished open, and they both stepped out onto the bridge. Sulu was in the command chair, and he immediately turned towards Kirk. “Captain, we’ve just received a distress call from Camus II. A scientific outpost there.”

Sulu rose from the center seat and slipped into his helmsman’s chair. Kirk went directly over to Uhura. “What’s their problem, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, they say their situation is desperate. Many casualties from an unknown condition. Doctor Lester asks for assistance immediately.”

A look of surprise crossed Kirk’s face. “Doctor Lester? Janice Lester?”

“Yes, sir. There are only ten on the expedition. She’s heading it.”

Kirk turned to look down in the center well towards Chekov. “Mr. Chekov, can we increase speed to Camus II and still make the rendezvous with the Potemkin?”

The navigator looked down at the instruments on his panel and made a few quick calculations. “Aye, sir, warp five will do it.”

Kirk strode towards the center chair. “Increase speed to warp five, Mr. Sulu. Mr. Chekov, take over the science post until Mr. Spock returns to duty. Get me some information on that expedition and the planet they’re on. Lieutenant Uhura, try to contact Dr. Lester and get some specific information on their problem.” Kirk swiveled his chair to where McCoy still stood by the turbo doors. “Bones, we’ll funnel everything we find down to sickbay. Get ready for a landing party.”

At least for a while, other problems were forgotten.


	4. Chapter 4

Kirk stood braced, body rigid and eyes closed, while he waited for the touch of Spock’s mind. It didn’t matter, he thought savagely, that it wasn’t his body or his eyes, it was still him, goddammit, and Spock would be able to tell that, wouldn’t he? And if he didn’t….

Kirk refused to consider the possibility. All his thoughts and efforts since awakening to find himself trapped in Janice Lester’s body had been directed towards finding Spock and making him believe. The mind meld was a last minute inspiration. The thought of it, its rightness had settled over Kirk like a calming hand, giving him some control over his racing heart and churning emotions. He couldn’t subject Spock to that, wouldn’t expose his friend to the raw fear, the barely contained anxiety, the crisis of identity he faced. Instead he searched for something else to project, something elementally him, James T. Kirk, that Spock could not help but instantly recognize. He settled unerringly on his belief that Spock would help him. If there was anything Kirk was sure of, it was his friend’s loyalty. He drew his certainty of Spock about him like a cloak, his own self-certainty in shreds, and waited as patiently as he could.

Suddenly he was standing in a vast dark featureless cavern, and a spotlight shone upon him. He was Kirk here, the familiar contours of his body a great relief even as he clenched his fists with the thought that it was just an illusion. He took a small comfort from the reassuringly masculine shadow on the floor.

As if from very far away, he heard a whispered voice echo softly, “Jim?” Despite his very best intentions, Kirk could not contain the wild surge of hope that claimed him. The emotion was reflected in the air by lightning flashes and rainbow sparks that shot from his body and died in the darkness afar. The voice called his name again, softly but much closer, and Kirk could see another light moving closer to him. He fought the urge to run to it, to shout, “I am!” and controlled his mind and body with a shaking effort. He would let Spock come to him.

It seemed to take a long time for the familiar features to appear bathed in light, but Kirk knew subjective time in the meld was deceptive. Probably it was all happening in a few seconds. Spock was moving towards him steadily with the long easy walking stride his captain had seen eat up the miles on a planetary survey. As he waited, Kirk allowed himself to be a little distracted by the image his mind had created for this meld: the isolation he felt in a woman’s body was accurately reflected by the darkness and Spock’s cautious approach into what may be a stranger’s mind by the long distance his “body” had to travel.

When Spock finally came to stand before Kirk, the captain saw first disbelief, then wonderment etched on the Vulcan features, and Kirk knew without words that he had been recognized. He took in a deep breath and smiled shakily. He couldn’t help but reach out one hand to grip Spock’s in a bone-crushing hold. He needed the reassurance of touch in his uncertain state, and Spock did not deny him.

Then Kirk felt a tingling sensation, and as he watched, he saw with amazement that his phantom hand and Spock’s were pushing forward into each other, merging flesh and blood and bone together as their minds were merged in this darkened world. His startled eyes flew to Spock’s equally amazed face, then both looked back down to where their hands were apparently melting together. In a panic Kirk shifted his grasp through Spock’s fingers, over his wrist to hold onto the forearm strongly. Spock duplicated his every action, so that their arms were locked together firmly, each clutching for substance and surety. They looked back up at one another in wonder.

Everything began to flicker, the blackness was turning to grey, and Kirk understood that Spock was ending the meld. He panicked for a moment at the thought of his return to the body of Janice Lester, then firmly clamped down on the emotion. Nothing but calm reason and Spock could help him now. He was in control and collected as he once again felt the unfamiliar body he inhabited, then couldn’t help a surge of gratitude for his friend who could help him even through this. He opened his eyes to see Spock’s reaction.

 

****

 

“I don’t know why the hell Starfleet Command won’t take my word for it.” McCoy sat in the captain’s chair behind his desk, one hand holding a coffee cup, both feet planted firmly on the desk. He waved emphatically with his free hand. “It isn’t as if I haven’t examined you thoroughly. It isn’t as if I don’t know you better than I know the Hippocratic Oath. I’ve certified you fit for command, why can’t they?” He sounded aggrieved.

“You can’t blame them, Bones.” Kirk’s voice was muffled, coming from deep inside his closet. He emerged carrying his dress uniform, several regular uniform pants and tunics, and casual clothing McCoy had seen him wear on shore leave. “I don’t blame them,” Kirk said as he dumped the armload of clothing on his bunk and started to fold. “I’m a prime candidate for psychiatric examination. It’s not often that a starship captain’s brain and personality are transferred into another body, a female body at that. Starfleet’s psychologists will have a field day with me.” He tried to control the bitterness he wanted to express. “I can understand why they would be unsure of me and order this little vacation. Maybe I’ll even enjoy it.”

“Enjoy two weeks of those starbase shrinks prodding and poking into your psyche? Who are you trying to convince, me or you?” McCoy had swiveled his chair so that he faced the captain in the bedroom, and he stabbed the air with his finger.

The room’s third occupant made his presence known. “The captain will not be evaluated for a full two weeks, Doctor. The examination should be concluded within five days at most. Admiral N’Kara will take the opportunity to begin the Mid-Mission Review debriefing as soon as the captain is recertified, as he most certainly will be.” Spock was standing by the divider between the two rooms. His hands were lightly clasped behind his back in his habitual posture.

“Yeah, lucky we tackled all those reports early. I just never thought I’d get a chance to go over them so soon.” Kirk paused in packing his suitcase, and now stared sightlessly over it at the wall, one velour shirt still clutched in his hand. He sighed, then looked over at Spock. “Thanks for all the help on the reports.” Spock inclined his head gravely.

The intercom sounded. “Sickbay to Dr. McCoy.”

McCoy placed his feet on the floor and leaned over to flick the intercom switch. “McCoy here, what’s the problem?”

The head duty nurse’s voice sounded in the room. “Ensign Harris just came in with abdominal pain. Looks like kidney stones to me, Doctor, and I think you’d better come check it out.”

“All right, Nurse, I’ll be right there.” McCoy rose and went to stand before Kirk.

“Well, looks like I won’t get the chance to walk you to the transporter room and say good-bye. Duty calls.” He took a breath, looked down at the floor, and then up to Kirk’s open gaze. He said seriously, “I know you’ll be recertified, Jim. The past week hasn’t been easy, recovering from the body transference, but you’re every bit as fit to be a starship commander now as you were a month ago. Don’t worry. I know, and I’m your doctor.” He grinned lopsidedly, clapped Kirk quickly on the shoulder, then swiftly turned to leave before the captain could respond. As the door opened, McCoy turned and backed out, saying, “And make sure you come back, ‘cause I don’t think I can stand more than two weeks of Spook’s logical command.”

There was silence in the cabin for a minute as Kirk stood rooted in front of the suitcase, staring at the closed door and lost in thought. He hadn’t really needed Bones’ reassurance. He had every confidence in his ability to command. What had proven difficult in the last week had been reorienting how he looked at his world, the crew, even himself, in the light of his new experience. He’d been thinking deeply about it all week, trying to put it in perspective.

Kirk had always considered himself a liberated soul, a free-thinking spirit. He liked to think that this trait helped him be a good commander and explorer. But the time he’d spent in Janice’s body had been a severe shock, and revealed the extent of his cultural prejudices.

He was ashamed that part of Janice’s accusations were true. There were no female starship captains, and precious few on the smaller ships either. The Federation professed equality of its many member races, but how many non-humans were aboard his own ship? Some of the reasons were political and cultural, but he’d be a fool not to know bias and distrust played a part on both sides. And how could the dominant species of the Federation profess equality with others when it suppressed one-half of its own kind? It was an age-old question, one he’d heard debated before, but it suddenly took on a new, very personal meaning.

He’d been terrified that he’d be trapped in Lester’s body. Forever confined to a shorter, weaker, frailer body, subject to biological cycles he didn’t understand, and with no chance to regain his command. No chance to be captain of the _Enterprise_ again, because the mind and heart of James Kirk were now expressed in a female form. Because he would be a woman.

Kirk had spent a lot of time the past week wondering how Uhura and other female members of his crew were able to accept what was suddenly so obvious to him. Before the transference, Uhura had been a much appreciated efficient communications officer, with a shape he appreciated even more. Now he saw so much more clearly her highly promising command material, and wondered at her tightly leashed ambition. He encountered female crew members and evaluated them in different ways than he ever had before. Their sexuality had always blinded him before; no, he had amended, his sexuality had blinded him into seeing only one part of what they really were. He felt as if he had been partially blinded all his life, and only now could see.

But if he now felt he was seeing other people in a new and better way, his understanding of himself was still uncertain. While in Janice’s body, he had had to consciously suppress many of her physical mannerisms. It was as if the bodily habits of thirty-five years had lingered even when the guiding intelligence was gone. It had been disorienting and distasteful, and the experience of not being in control of his/her own body had remained vividly in his mind. His hand had constantly wanted to stray to finger the ends of his hair; he’d found himself wanting to examine his nails; he’d run awkwardly, to protect his surprising breasts. But most confusing of all had been the emotional reaction to Spock.

After the meld, he’d been so grateful for the first officer’s acceptance, so filled with the tingling wonder of the mental experience, that he’d felt his body melt with the emotions. He’d looked at Spock, and been barely able to check the impulse to throw his arms around his friend body and kiss him. Not just a peck on the cheek, but really kiss him. Kiss Spock!

The image had remained with him, along with a totally confusing set of emotions. He’d talked with Bones about everything else, but this Kirk had kept to himself. He told himself it was because he’d been embarrassed, but knew in his heart it was because he hadn’t finished thinking it over yet. He tried to class it with his other reactions to Janice’s body. Janice was a woman, she reacted to everything more emotionally than he did, she naturally demonstrated her emotions with a physical expression of affection. Right? But as he toured the ship, and evaluated crew women in a new, less stereotypical light, he could not help but apply the lessons he’d learned to himself. Was it Lester’s body in control, or Kirk’s heart?

The subject of his meditation was still in his quarters, having retired to a chair to wait patiently until Kirk regained focus. With anyone else his introspection would have been rude. With Spock it was another expression of himself that was accepted without comment.

Kirk remembered what Bones had said as he left.

“He doesn’t really mean it, you know,” Kirk commented, picking up a pair of casual shoes and fitting them carefully into the suitcase. “Bones will do fine with you in command. So will everyone else.”

Spock looked at him over steepled fingers. “This is the first time that Starfleet has officially given me command of the _Enterprise_.” There was a questioning note in the voice. Did Spock need reassuring?

Kirk turned to face him, a Starfleet issue boot in one hand. “You know that’s mainly been for political reasons. You’re as qualified to command the _Enterprise_ as I am.”

“For two weeks only, but on patrol along the Orion border.”

Kirk’s sudden desire to defend his friend to Starfleet was deflected as he was reminded of the dangerous situation into which the _Enterprise_ was traveling. He said quietly, returning to his packing, “There’s been a lot of activity there lately.”

“Yes, I am sure that Starfleet is concerned. Both freighters and passenger ships have been attacked, and lives lost. It is reported that many have been taken as slaves, as is the Orion custom. It is unclear as to why the Orions are testing the unstable boundary line between their territory and the Federation at this time.”

Kirk moved into the bathroom and started collecting toiletries. “I think they made it clear with that incident over the Coridan entry that they were aligning themselves against the Federation. If this had happened two years ago, I would have said that it might just be the independent action of one ship. or maybe a small group of ships. Orions haven’t exactly been known for working together. But with this new leader they’ve got….”

Spock inclined his head in agreement, although Kirk didn’t see. “I agree. He may be directing this preliminary action against the Federation as a means of testing our resolve. More data needs to be collected.”

“Yes,” Kirk muttered darkly into the bathroom mirror, “with the _Enterprise_.” It frustrated him that his ship would be facing the enemy without him.

“That would seem to be Starfleet Command’s intent.” Spock’s hearing had picked up on his captain’s discontent. “However, our orders are to provoke nothing. The last attack took place more than fourteen days ago, so there is a chance that we will not see action at all.” There was silence from the bathroom. Spock rose from his chair and went to stand in the doorway, observing Kirk stuffing his hairbrush savagely into a small carry-all.

“Jim,” he said, and paused until Kirk looked up at him. “I will do my utmost to return the _Enterprise_ to you with no harm done to the ship or to its crew. You know that I have no desire to engage in combat.”

Kirk smiled wanly. “I know, Spock. And I wouldn’t want anyone else to be sitting in the command chair but you.” He paused for a moment. “Unless it were me, of course.”

Spock smiled with his eyes and moved back to the chair. “Of course,” he deadpanned.

Kirk ignored his first officer’s foray into humor, and left the bathroom, case in hand. “I’m worried about this TNT situation, too. It’s obvious that there’s more to this than one man’s prejudices.”

“Indeed, it is too much of a coincidences that the cross match between personnel with access to the spacesuits and those too ill to get up while we were in orbit around the colony revealed Technician Walls. Without information from the colony,” Kirk noted that Spock carefully refrained from mentioning their informants’ names, “we had virtually nothing to act upon.”

“Right. So be careful.” Kirk resumed stuffing the remainder of his clothing into the suitcase.

Spock noted his captain’s frustrated movements. He stood again, and carefully placing his hands behind his back, moved over to stand near the bunk. “Captain, I will be alert to possibilities.”

Kirk bent over to snap the suitcase shut, then straightened and faced his friend. “I know you will, Spock. I don’t mean to imply you won’t. I meant what I said, there isn’t anyone I’d trust more in command of the _Enterprise_ than you. And Starfleet Command trusts you too. That’s obvious, or they would never have offered you those three other command positions the past two years.”

Spock’s eyes flew to Kirk’s face. “I did not know whether you were aware of those.”

Kirk drew in a deep breath and turned away from Spock, looking anywhere but into his friend’s deep, discerning eyes.

“Oh, yes,” he said softly, staring at the computer screen. “I was notified each time they tried to take you away.” _From me,_ a faraway voice echoed through the room. His voice became bitter. “To prepare me, I guess, for a new science officer, a new first officer. But you never left, did you?”

Suddenly he could not help but look at Spock, and could not hide the intensity in his voice. All the confusion caused by the transference, his worries about the ship, his unresolved feelings for Spock were all coming out in the desperation-edged tone. Kirk knew he was emotionally off-balance, that if he thought about it he might decide not to say these words, but he suddenly felt reckless.

“The first time you were offered command, two and a half years ago, I worried about how I could get anyone else even half as qualified in the Sciences as you are. The next time, I worried about losing you as my friend, and wondered who I would play chess with. This last time,” he drew in a deep breath and shook his head slowly while examining the bulkhead, “I really sweated the last one. Not a frigate, or a trainer, but a science research vessel. They couldn’t have tempted you more, Spock. I was depressed for days, not knowing your answer.” He looked up at Spock again. “Why didn’t you take it? Why didn’t you take any of them?” Kirk was pleading, but he didn’t know what for.

Spock returned the earnest gaze for long moments, seeming undecided about his reply. The silence between them grew, until Kirk was certain there wasn’t going to be an answer at all. When Spock finally spoke, his voice was low and uncertain, and his eyes skipped from Kirk’s face to the floor and back again.

“Jim…when you are on Starbase Eleven…I will miss you.”

Kirk felt his heart hammer, and he drew in an uncertain breath. It was all the answer he would get from Spock, and it was all he needed. He was once again flooded with soft feelings, of gratitude, of affection…. He gave up trying to catalogue them as he looked into Spock’s shy brown eyes. He didn’t fight the impulse when it came this time, but moved with it.

He took a step forward, his arms outstretched, then another, and his arms wrapped around the narrow shoulders. He pulled Spock close, turned his head to a pointed ear and murmured, “Oh, I’ll miss you too, Spock.”

The Vulcan body was rigid against him for a moment, but as he whispered he felt Spock relax. The first officer’s arms moved up uncertainly, then settled tentatively around his back. When Kirk made no move to dislodge him, Spock’s fingers tightened convulsively, gripping hard. The heat of Spock’s arms and fingers pressed through Kirk’s shirt; he thought he could feel each millimeter of flesh against him. His world seemed to narrow. The focus was the being he was holding—holding!—in his arms.

Kirk told himself there was nothing sexual in the embrace. Despite its intensity, their lower bodies were careful inches apart. But Kirk’s face was buried in Spock’s shoulder, his chin in its hollow. Spock’s head was turned so that a tickle of breath moved against the captain’s neck. Kirk gently rubbed his cheek against the blue-clad warmth. It felt so good. He felt Spock’s arms tighten, and a small inhalation by his ear.

The world spun, then settled into warmth and touch, a chest rising and falling against his, a heartbeat pounding in his ear. Nothing else mattered.

The moments flew by, and Kirk was acutely conscious of each one. They stood together in the embrace for a minute in silence. Then Kirk reluctantly straightened and moved back, his hands sliding across Spock’s back to grip his shoulders.

Spock met Kirk’s look openly, but shifted his weight and swallowed hard as if embarrassed and struggling against it. Kirk wanted to say something, something meaningful that would bridge the silence, but his mind was short-circuited and he could only feel. So he said what he had said before, and meant it even more.

“I’ll miss you.” It came out in a whisper. So few words. Kirk wondered if Spock was able to catch the meaning behind them, the emotions, confused and otherwise, the changes he could feel forming in the air between them. He searched his friend’s face and saw a vulnerable softness in the austere planes. He was satisfied.

Spock returned the look carefully, then nodded once as if accepting the truth of his captain’s words. He stepped back, out of Kirk’s hands, and reached over to the bunk to pick up the suitcase. Spock indicated the door, the transporter, Starbase Eleven, and the entire rest of the universe with a nod of his head, and with a deep timbre to his voice said, “Shall we go?” They exited in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Starbase Eleven was one of the most beautiful of all Starfleet facilities. Kirk had been there once before, years ago, but he had forgotten how really lovely the base was.

First there was the sky. The stripes and swirls of a gas giant planet hung low on the horizon, a permanent fixture he could never see enough of. Sometimes the bright rays of sunlight from this system’s hot white star bleached out and blurred the brilliant colors of the hovering planet, but at night the reds, oranges, yellows, even the deep purples dominated the star-speckled deep. The planet’s upper atmosphere was in continual motion, and if one looked closely and watched long enough, the pattern of colors would shift and change, writhing as if in torment, or dancing as if in joy. It depended on the mood of the watcher.

As Kirk watched the nighttime display, comfortably sprawled in a chair at an outdoor café-garden, he contemplated which he saw tonight. Writhing or dancing? He’d had a few drinks, was very tired and couldn’t quite decide. He chuckled wryly to himself. Lord, he was tired if he couldn’t even decide how he felt. But the thought didn’t matter enough for him to abandon his quiet appreciation of this lovely place, and he returned his gaze to the sky.

It was very quiet. The nighttime murmuring of the slight wind through carefully placed decorative trees was a balm to his weary ears. It’s what he wanted to hear. He was sick of the sound of his own voice, and the voices of his doctors. The natural sounds surrounding him here went a long way towards soothing his tired mind. The entire surface of this small satellite of the giant planet had been dedicated to nature, and the gentle pursuits of a few small restaurants and cafes, parks, sports amphitheaters, museums and theaters. This cafe was right on the edge of the largest woodland reserve, far from the crowds of the latest sporting phenomenon several kilometers away. He had sought it out deliberately, needing the quiet after three long days of tests and evaluations.

Kirk tore his gaze from the sky and glanced over at the only other occupant of the garden. The entire left side of the man’s face and his left arm were coated with plasti-skin, some of its artificial surface shining with the reflected light from the sky, and he sat stiffly as if the bandage extended further under his clothing. He was obviously not in the mood for conversation either. Kirk had seen many like him the past few days, for Starbase Eleven was the premier hospital facility of the Starfleet. It provided no refitting depot for ships, but miracle workers for bodies. Or minds. The carefully terra-formed surface of the starbase hid not only the artificial gravity machines and generators, but also an immense underground complex where the finest doctors and medical technicians labored with the latest equipment to save and rehabilitate battered bodies. The whole satellite was very much like a space station, with the added attraction of an enhanced atmosphere and the green space humanoids needed to recover health.

This man was undoubtedly convalescing here after surgical treatment for burns, just as Kirk had several years ago. He’d been an eager young lieutenant then, facing the consequences of his chosen dangerous profession for the first time. His phaser burns had been extensive and painful, his recovery uncomfortable. But there had been compensations. He grinned into the parkland’s darkness, which began just a meter away from his softly lit table. The night life had been terrific, once he’d recovered, and he’d met Bones.

He wrapped the pleasant memory around his threatening melancholy. Bones had started his Starfleet career at Starbase Eleven, where only the finest were chosen to work. Kirk knew his CMO liked to downplay his skills. McCoy’s tones, “I’m just a simple country doctor,” echoed in his mind. But Leonard McCoy was one of the best doctors around. Yet, Kirk grinned again to himself, he sure stuck out like a sore thumb at the starbase. Stubborn, individualistic, eccentric…. Meeting Bones had been a huge breath of fresh air to the bored, ailing lieutenant. All the other doctors and nurses seemed stuffy after McCoy. Kirk considered himself lucky that he and Bones had recognized the affinity despite their age difference and radically different life experiences. They had become good friends on the base, and now that Bones was on the _Enterprise_ , the best of friends.

Kirk took a slow sip of his drink, slipping away from the happy memory. He wished Bones were here with him now. Shore leave, even the strange one he was on now, was never any fun alone, and this beautiful place was meant to be shared. The starbase had its more raucous attractions, too, he remembered, one level down, that catered to the baser instincts. He would have enjoyed exploring them with Bones. Or Scotty. The engineer, once torn from his technical manuals, really knew how to have a good time. He would enthusiastically preach Scotch whiskey and engineering to anyone within earshot, whether at a bar or a brothel, and could tell “war stories” for hours. They’d even been in a barroom brawl together once, on Canopus VII, where Kirk had discovered Scotty had a good right jab, and had heard more Gaelic curses than he’d known existed. Yes, he’d enjoy touring level two of the starbase with either Scotty or Bones. He’d been so exhausted and preoccupied with the psych evaluations that he’d not visited there yet. Maybe when the _Enterprise_ returned there’d be a chance for some leave time for the ship….

The thought of the _Enterprise_ , never far from his conscious mind, sent his eyes skyward again. He wondered what was happening along the Orion Zone, and tried hard not to worry. She was in the best of hands. His crew was the best in Starfleet, his senior officers efficient and experienced. The _Enterprise’s_ glowing reputation was deserved, he thought, not because of his own heroics or insights. but because of the way the ship’s complement acted together as a team. But now the team leader was missing….

He shook his head at the errant worry and reexamined a lavender whorl near the gas giant’s pole. If anyone could bring her safely back to him again, Spock could.

Spock. He’d been trying hard not to think of his friend the past three days, and testing, exhaustion, and his concern over his re-certification as captain of the _Enterprise_ had helped. But occasionally, as now, the thought of him would come skittering across Kirk’s consciousness and settle without warning over his chest, a blanket that warmed and choked at the same time.

The memory of their embrace in his cabin tantalized him, enticing and confusing. This feeling they had between them was so hard to define. He had never had a friend as complex as Spock before. He acknowledged the sexual content of their friendship now; after all, hadn’t he had that wild impulse to kiss Spock while in Lester’s body? But there was a sexual component to all relationships, he reasoned, even the most innocent, and he dismissed that crazy moment in light of their subsequent embrace in his cabin. Intense, yes, but non-sexual. That had been the action of brothers, of friends who were very close, and caused by Spock’s unusual emotional declaration. That’s what Kirk wanted from Spock. The free exchange of those super-charged feelings he’d experienced in the meld on Melkot, even if they were tempered by Vulcan reticence. That’s what Spock had already managed to give him, and he just wanted more of it, friendship and caring, sharing.

Kirk knew there was a contradiction there, between this conclusion and his thoughts on the ship when he’d wondered what his feelings towards Spock really were. But they were such good, good friends. Brothers, for sure. Maybe they’d gotten a little caught up in each other lately, what with the melds and Kirk being so desperately in need of a steadying hand in Lester’s body. Spock had been there, as he always was; it was so easy to depend on him. Perhaps this separation would give them both perspective on what was happening between them.

Kirk remembered that he’d told Spock that he would miss him, and he did. Level three of the starbase was reputed to hold some of the finest shops of rare and exotic merchandise in this part of the galaxy, and Kirk wanted to share them with the Vulcan. Kirk imagined his friend’s reaction to some of the priceless objects for sale. The first officer had unerring taste and would be able to separate the dross from the genuine. Then there was the way Spock always appreciated nature in such an obvious way that Kirk’s own perception of its beauty was enhanced. He wanted to walk along the terra-formed surface with his friend, and see it through his eyes. Kirk was sure he’d hear a lecture on some flora and fauna that was just “fascinating”; Spock’s voice wouldn’t be able to hide his enthusiasm. At least, not from him. And there was that restaurant recommended in the computerized guide to the starbase; it sounded like one he and Spock could enjoy together. Yes, he hoped that they could spend some time together here, he and his friend. Of course, he wanted to spend time with Bones and Scotty, too….

He took another sip of his drink and patted a wet spot on the table with a napkin. It was getting late, and he should be getting back to his BOQ soon. More tests tomorrow. Probably just another day or so to go. Much as he knew their importance and their vital place in his being able to rejoin the _Enterprise_ , he still found most of the psych tests and evaluations boring. He’d done it all before. Thank God none of it had gotten too personal; he would have resented that. He’d been through most of the recovery process from the transference with Bones, and the team of three physicians accepted McCoy’s word on his specific fitness there. What Starfleet was interested in was comparing current results with past scores. He found himself facing the full battery he’d taken before being considered for command training as a cadet; they tested the command conditioning that was implanted in every line officer above the rank of Lieutenant Commander, they evaluated his general fitness and ability to lead as a captain of a starship. His reflexes, phobias, motivations had all been poked and prodded until he was heartily sick of it all. He suspected that at least two of the doctors were carefully, even gleefully looking for an aberration that would be an excuse to ground him for further tests. He had no intention of being anyone’s research project and had paid meticulous attention to every question despite his boredom.

A movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. His solitary companion in the garden was getting laboriously to his feet to welcome a woman quickly walking towards him. Kirk could see their smiles even across the light-splotched darkness. The man must have been waiting for her all this time. The two embraced and shared a warm kiss, and the sound of their happy voices drifted over to him. The woman helped the man return to his seat, careful of his injuries, then their heads bowed towards each other and their voices lowered into intimacy.

Kirk felt a pang as he turned away, realizing he’d been staring rudely. He wondered if the man were recuperated enough for lovemaking, and hoped he was. The woman was nice-looking, and there had been the sound of love in her voice. Lovemaking while in love. There was nothing like it in the universe. The thought started a familiar feeling of desire growing. Sex would be a good antidote to his encroaching melancholy; and if he couldn’t make love with someone, sex, the next best thing, would be good enough for him. Maybe he’d visit level two tomorrow, check things out for Bones and Scotty.

Kirk rose and punched in his credit code on the table’s recessed display, then started walking briskly towards the walkway slide that would take him “home.” Tomorrow, for sure.

 

****

 

“How may we serve you, gentle sir?” the hostess pleasantly inquired. “Cocktails, dinner, a companion for the evening?”

Kirk was standing just within the doorway of an exclusive establishment on level two. _The Dragon_ was even more elegant than it had been eight years ago; he hoped that its reputation for gentle unobtrusive service, of many kinds, was still warranted as well. He was looking forward to a quietly stimulating evening.

He turned on the dazzling Kirk smile. “How about all three?”

The woman smiled in return. They moved together down the short flight of stairs. The lushly appointed anteroom held the bar along two of its sides, a wide stairway leading to the upper rooms, and a gilt-framed entrance to the dining area. Several artfully scattered tables in the center of the room already held groups of men and women, although it was still early in the base’s evening.

The hostess gestured towards the long bar as they threaded their way among the tables. “If you desire a companion for dinner as well, perhaps one of these ladies could accompany you?” She stopped with Kirk several meters away.

Kirk smiled a genuine smile this time as he surveyed the array of beauty before him. Five or six humans, or human-looking beings, an Andorian, one very tall Canopan, one rather squat Vegan. All beautifully dressed and coiffed, all with an air of sophistication and allure. A few jewels sparkled among them, nothing ostentatious. None of them were very young either, which pleased him. __The Dragon_ ’s_ type of sophistication was incompatible with youth, and Kirk was past the stage where youth alone held very much appeal. Nor were there any green Orion women in sight, even among the couples already at the cocktail tables. This confirmed his impression of __The Dragon__ as an elegant, high-class establishment. Only common houses trafficked in the semi-sentient, if highly sensuous creatures. Of course, there was a time for their unbridled behavior, too, but not tonight.

Kirk turned back to the hostess, looking well pleased. “I’ll take my time and enjoy the view, talk to these lovely ladies before I decide. I’m in no hurry. My credit number is 84744377988. Put the whole evening on that.” The woman’s hand had flicked over a small wrist comp as he spoke, and she nodded when an approval was immediately given.

“Enjoy yourself, gentle sir.”

He eased up onto a stool and was immediately approached by a tall, slender, dark-haired woman. Kirk watched her walk towards him down the length of the bar, striding with an easy grace, hips swinging slightly, her clinging floor length gown accentuating the movement of her legs. Nice, very nice.

She paused before him and he realized she was at least as tall as he was. She had unusual almond-shaped, violet-colored eyes with no whites showing at all. Not human, then. He found himself smiling into her eyes as she asked, “Would you like a drink to start your evening?”

Her voice was low-pitched and melodious, its cultured tone seeming to blend harmoniously with the soft music, the gentle tinkle of glasses and murmur of voices. Appealing, very appealing.

He upped the wattage on his smile, and she returned it just as gracefully as she had walked. He indicated the high chair next to him and watched appreciatively as she moved onto it.

“A drink sounds wonderful, if I can share it with you.” An uninspired line, but he felt no pressure to be witty. It’s why he had chosen this place; no hassles, no rush, no worries. Most men who visited _The Dragon_ would spend the night in an employee’s arms in one of the upper rooms, but the needs of the flesh were pursued in an atmosphere of music, conversation, and good food. To a weary starship captain intent on experiencing an epicurean evening with no thought involved, _The Dragon_ and its ladies were worth every extra credit.

Kirk asked the bartender for bourbon and water for both of them, assuming his partner would object if the drink were something her system could not handle. She did not demur. The bartender was another nice touch: no servo-comp. While they waited for their drinks he took the time to survey his companion. She returned his gaze frankly, calmly allowing him the time to look her over. She seemed to be in no hurry either, matching his mood exactly.

Besides the large dark-colored eyes that marked her non-human origins, the woman had some unusual markings on her neck. There were three ridged, parallel lines running along each side. He examined them, making no secret of his interest, and she turned her head obligingly to one side with a throaty chuckle so he could have a better view. He was puzzled for a moment, then she took a deliberate deep breath and one of the ridges fluttered gently. Gill slits? His curiosity was roused. He had never seen a species with them before, although he knew there were worlds with intelligent aquatic life. Were these vestigial or functional? Could she breathe under water? Would she even be similar enough to him physiologically so they could have sex? Kirk dismissed that question. She wouldn’t be at _The Dragon_ if she weren’t a typical humanoid with the typical essential equipment.

Their drinks arrived and he clinked their glasses together.

“Skoal.”

“My name is Sandra,” the woman volunteered after a sip.

“Sandra?” he queried skeptically, and reached out to gently run a finger along a gill slit. “I don’t think that’s likely.”

“No,” she said with another self-contained smile. “But my real name is so cumbersome for humans that Sandra is an adequate substitute.”

“Try me,” he said, and eyed her over the rim of his glass.

“Sansenkchrzanpubnarlrusn. And that is, of course, only my personal insignia, and not my name of the nest.”

“Sandra it is,” Kirk said, and toasted her. He realized he had made his choice for the evening, and was glad of it. “My name is Jim. I’ve never met anyone with these before.” He reached out and fingered her neck again, a liberty he knew would be allowed in this place. She again obligingly turned her head, a practiced gesture, and he wondered briefly how many others had found the slits interesting. Possibly erotic? “And I’ve traveled a lot and met dozens of species of beings.”

“My planet is not a member of the Federation. Sandor is near Orion space, and we’ve found it to be more profitable to be non-aligned and flexible. Not many of us travel, but my nest father is a trader, and I have seen many worlds. This one is more pleasant than most.” Sandra paused to take a sip from her drink. “The Federation spends so many credits to keep its peoples healthy, or heal them. The Orions have no such compassion.”

Kirk was enchanted with her measured intelligent words, and the gentle tone with which they were uttered. A woman of pleasure who had seen many worlds!

“What so many beings in the galaxy can’t believe about the Federation is that its so-called propaganda is true. At least,” he shrugged, “as true as politics, economics, and practicality allow it to be. But,” he almost said _our hearts are in the right place,_ then smoothly switched to “our sentiments are sincere. We want to achieve the goals we preach. Nobody’s perfect, but others are a lot less perfect than we are.” He was speaking with conviction, from his heart, and he felt good that the words flowed so resolutely from him, even after all the doubts Janice had raised in his mind. Bones had occasionally called him a foolish idealist, and something inside him was glad he still was.

“Yes, now that I have seen some of it its worlds and works, I believe that too. I hope to see more of your Federation some day.”

He smiled at her again. He’d smiled more in the past half-hour than in the entire previous four days. “I’m glad you delayed your departure until I arrived to meet you.” He gestured to the dining room entrance. “Would you join me for dinner…and the evening?”

In answer Sandra slid from her chair and picked up her drink.

The food was delicious, the service excellent and unhurried, the ambience soothing. The room was decorated with dark woods, crystal and candles, and the tables placed discreetly far enough from each other that Kirk felt the pleasing isolation. Tension and worry dropped from his shoulders easily. He noticed that Sandra was served considerably smaller portions of the food she ordered than he was, and he asked almost indignantly if the house were conserving at her expense.

Her laughter was a gentle ripple through the air, reassuring and warming him.

“No,” she shook her head, in a gesture she had undoubtedly copied from the human inhabitants of the base, “my metabolism requires much less food intake than yours does.” She had an odd way of talking, sometimes almost colloquially, other times uttering an unexpectedly formal or stilted phrase.

They spoke quietly together of different worlds they had visited, he avoiding by instinct and without effort any classified or military-sounding information, concentrating on the thriving metropolitan worlds that were the core of the Federation’s prosperity. She told him of her home world, the great oceans that sprawled across it and from which her race had emerged. He learned that her gill slits were functional at a very early age, but by adolescence were merely reminders of a watery past.

By the time dessert was served and coffee brought, they had reached an easy understanding, and Kirk was more than looking forward to moving upstairs with her. Some of his experiences with paid professionals had been joyless affairs, with their only connection one of the body. Other times he had consciously projected an easy charm and laughed the evening away. Then he had often felt like an outsider watching his own body perform. But Sandra had captivated his interest as a person, and her attraction was undeniable. He watched her dark brown hair sweep across the line of her shoulders. It was coarser than human hair, and sometimes looked black until a candle’s flicker would pick up auburn highlights. His eye wandered down to her breasts and stayed there. Time to go.

 

When he wordlessly rose and formally held her chair for her to rise, it was easy to take her hand and move towards the stairway. His arm slid gratefully around her waist as they climbed the steps; this wouldn’t be making love with someone he loved, but at least he had an interesting, intelligent companion who exhibited a rare compassion. And that, he thought somewhat bitterly, was so much more than he usually had.

Like everything else about _The Dragon_ , the rooms upstairs were spacious and beautifully appointed. The one Sandra led him to boasted an oil painting of a stormy seascape over an enormous brass bed, covered with a misty blue bedspread. There was a nightstand to either side, and a bathroom with a sunken tub visible through an open door.

“Very nice,” Kirk commented, surveying the room, his arm still firmly about Sandra’s waist, “but not nearly as nice as you.” He turned her gently, placing both hands on her hips, and leaned into her body to claim a kiss. She tasted nice, but just like every other woman, human and non-human, whom he had kissed before.

At first they caressed each other without haste, he lingering over her soft lips and that intriguing neck, she running gentle fingers through his hair and returning each action without initiating any of her own. After a while his hands wandered down to cup her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Sandra caught her breath as his fingers groped for a nipple, and he felt his erection rise to press against the confining pants. They kissed again, his hand caught between their bodies, this time passionately entwining tongues and lips. His desire grew with each passing moment, and when they parted to breathe he gently pushed her towards the bed.

Kirk would have liked to undress her, but as she walked Sandra coolly began to remove her own clothing, so he started to unbutton his own shirt. Her actions reminded him that, despite their easy conversation and the pleasant time over dinner, she was still just a paid companion for the night. The thought momentarily saddened him. He wanted more, he deserved more, but life in space was denying him a completion of the heart.

The sight of Sandra’s nude body, paid for or not, emerging from the shimmering gown was enough to banish all Kirk’s sad thoughts. He reached for her eagerly and lowered them both, now naked, to the bed. He was no longer in a mood to linger, his introspective moments adding some ferocity to his need. He moved over her to press his full length against her body, which felt cool, soft and yielding, and sought her lips again.

Sandra sensed Kirk’s new urgency and undulated her hips against his hardness provocatively. It wasn’t going to take much stimulation for him to come to completion. She felt so good, her long lean body against him, one leg gently draped over the back of his, her lips parted and panting in one ear. He moved against her again, pressing his penis against the crease between leg and groin. He felt his balls begin to tighten and knew he’d have to stop or he’d come from this stimulation alone. And although the night stretched before them, he didn’t want even his first orgasm to be so quick.

Kirk shifted his body down and over so he was on his belly on the bed, and reached over to his bedmate to caress her nipples. All the women he’d ever been with had enjoyed it when he paid attention to their breasts, and he tried to be a considerate lover. Sandra proved to be no exception, and her quickened breathing showed her appreciation. He shifted up to take one small breast in his mouth while fingering the other, all the while fighting the temptation to thrust his trapped organ into the mattress. Kirk rolled the nipple with his tongue, flicking it back and forth in his mouth as it hardened. A breathy “Ohhh” escaped from his companion’s parted lips, and he felt a different sort of satisfaction claim him over his ability to please her.

Kirk shifted his attention to the other breast, and Sandra’s hands came up to entwine in his hair. She was not terribly well-endowed, her breasts all but disappearing when she lay down, but she was very sensitive there.

After a minute or so he moved up to her lips again. Sandra expertly caressed his lips, teeth and tongue, while reaching a hand down to stroke his cock back to rock hardness. Kirk’s chest was heaving then, and he couldn’t wait. He tore himself away from her clinging lips and moved to position himself over her, his weight supported on both hands on either side of her expectant body.

As Kirk gazed over her paleness, open to him, he knew he didn’t want to penetrate her in the usual way. He craved completion in her moistness, but suddenly, for some unknown reason, her cunt was not enough. It did not lure him. With a growled, “Let me,” he reached down to her hips and forced her body over. He’d had anal sex with a few prostitutes before, and it was all he could think of now.

Kirk nudged his organ between her flattened buttocks; Sandra had not responded to his abrupt actions. As he pulled his weight off her body again and back onto his arms, she turned her head to one side and rested it on her bent elbow.

“Oh, Jim,” she asked, teasing, “do you want it ass backwards?”

He could do nothing but return her gaze silently. His cock twitched again, wanting the warm resting place.

“It’s all the same to me, you know,” she continued kindly, “But you’ll have to give me a minute to prepare. Can you wait?”

At his silent nod, she stretched one arm over to the nightstand and removed a tube of cream from the drawer. Kirk pulled back to sit on his haunches, his cock standing at stiff attention and his eyes following Sandra’s every move avidly.

“I’ll do this, okay?” she told him, flipping onto her back and expertly coating her fingers with the lubricant before inserting just the tip of one finger into her tight hole. She caught his gaze as she rotated one finger and licked her lips deliberately. Kirk caught his breath and worked bard to control the impulse to plunge into her at once. His gaze returned to her fingers, which had been recoated with the cream and had now disappeared within her body. Sandra withdrew them, and wiped them clean on a towel from the nightstand.

She turned back to her stomach and raised her buttocks. “It’s all right now, just go slow.”

Kirk couldn’t tear his eyes off those round white globes offered to him. He thought he’d never seen anything so enticing or desirable. He could barely breathe with the excitement. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew part of his response was because of the submissive posture she had taken, head and shoulders down on the bed, butt raised high. There was something primitive, dominating, and lustful that called to him to take her as if she were offering self, and he could not resist the enticement.

Nervously licking his own lips, he moved forward, parted her white cheeks and sought the tiny bud. When he found it and entered her as slowly as he could, Kirk was flushed with an excitement he had never felt before. None of his previous sexual encounters had been like this, not even the few other times he’d fucked a woman’s ass. Heat rose and claimed him. Sandra didn’t exist, the room didn’t exist, even he didn’t exist. Everything had been reduced down to this sweet aching feeling in his heart and in his cock, and this need to press forward, withdraw and plunge forward again into the enclosing darkness. He was no longer in control as his strokes became stronger and quicker, and he sought to reach the fullness of that sweetness that was all-consuming. He was reaching, reaching towards it as his universe collapsed and spiraled and he felt the first spasm of orgasm claim him. He plunged forward wildly crying out in ecstasy, “Spock!!” Then with the second rush of pleasure, “Oh, Spock!!”

The third and fourth spasms were not as intense, and they relinquished him to a reality where he could hear his own words. He froze over Sandra’s body and then withdrew from her so quickly she gasped with dismay. Kirk collapsed next to her, breathing raggedly with his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. He was shocked into immobility.

Sandra raised up to sit cross-legged and look at Jim. She had thought he would be a careful lover; his ferocity had surprised her and she knew she would be sore tomorrow because of his actions. His words at the moment of his completion did not bother her. Sandra had heard many names from the mouths of her clients at the peak of orgasm. Most men were embarrassed to varying degrees, some dismissed it with a shrug of the shoulder, but none had ever had the look of utter devastation that Jim did now. Her compassionate nature stirred. Whoever this Spock was, Jim had obviously not expected to be speaking her name tonight.

As she watched him, Jim’s face seemed to soften, his lip trembled just a bit, and his eyes were bright. Sandra recognized the signs of emotional upset in humans. But he was more than just a companion to her. She had felt a kindred spirit between them, too, and had been relating to Jim as to one of her own kind all evening.

“Nest brother,” she crooned softly, leaning over him and stroking one cheek, “Nest brother, it will be all right. Come to me and shelter from your storm.”

Jim reached out to her and pulled Sandra down to bury his face in her shoulder.

 

****

 

Hours later Kirk finished dressing as the bright rays of a simulated sun shone through the window. He turned to the figure seated in the middle of the bed and went to sit on the edge of it. He reached for Sandra’s hands.

“I don’t know how I can thank you enough for what you’ve done for me. You have no idea how important all this has been.” At her doubting look, he laughed and squeezed her hands. “Then again, I guess you do.” He leaned forward and kissed her lips chastely, then looked sincerely into her eyes. “Thank you, nest sister. Thank you so very much for your patience, your willingness to listen, your caring. I wish there were some way I could return your kindness.”

Sandra smiled at him and gently stroked his cheek. “There is, Jim. Write to me, or send me a tape, whatever. I care about what happens to you and to your Spock, nest brother. Write to me, and tell me of your happiness?” she pleaded wistfully.

He brought one hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss into her palm. “I will, Sandra. And I hope it’s happiness you’ll be hearing about.” He released her hands and rose, tugging at his shirt. “I really have to leave. I have an appointment in less than an hour. Will you send me your address, and real name,” this with a smile, “to the Bachelor Officer’s Quarters?” Then, as an afterthought, “My name’s James Kirk.”

“I will do all these things, James Kirk,” she nodded. “Until we meet again, Jim.”

He paused at the door, looking back at her alone in the large bed. “Goodbye, Sandra. And…live long and prosper.” He was gone.

Sandra lay back against the pillows. She felt unusually tired. There had been the long hours talking with and listening to Jim, and when he had finally fallen into an exhausted slumber, she had watched him breathe for a time before succumbing herself. He was an uncommon person, this James Kirk, she had known that from the start. And then he had unburdened his heart to her….

Jim had clutched her tightly for a long time. He seemed unwilling to look at her but kept his head buried against her shoulder. Sandra knew he had not fallen asleep. She moved away from him slightly, straightening her cramped legs and moving her hand down to grasp his.

“Jim, do you want to talk about it?”

He looked up at her in surprise and gratitude, and seemed to consider her question. Then he whispered, “There are three psychiatrists over at the base hospital who would just love to hear me say this. Yes…yes, I guess I do want to talk about it.” But despite his declaration, Kirk remained silent, staring now quietly at the ceiling.

She prompted, “Tell me about it, Jim. Who…who is this Spock? What is she to you?”

He turned his head to look at her, but they were too close, and he sat up in bed instead, carefully keeping their hands clasped.

“Spock and I…work together, Sandra. And Spock isn’t a woman,” he took a deep breath, “he’s a man.”

When she didn’t move or respond, he said, “The most wonderful, incredible man, and I love him. I really do love him. I want him. I just didn’t know it until tonight.” Kirk paused, shaking his head in incredulity and staring at the bedcovers. He whispered, “I just didn’t know.”

She gave him a moment, then, “And this knowledge disturbs you?”

Kirk slid from the bed and started to pace. He didn’t seem to notice or care that he was totally naked, and Sandra stared at him appreciatively before returning her attention to his words.

“I’ve never been attracted to a man before. All my experience has been with women. I’ve never thought of myself in any other way. It’s kind of a surprise.” He gave a halfhearted chuckle and stole an uneasy sideways glance at her while standing in the middle of the room.

He was apparently waiting for a response. “Jim,” Sandra started, “if I have learned anything from my travels, it is that every race and every culture is different. On some worlds, marriage is considered a perversion, since it inhibits the maximum use of the gene pool. On other worlds, same-sex relationships are quite the norm, and different sexes join only to produce young. This is a cultural response we are talking about. I am not familiar enough with human cultures to be able to advise you. You tell me, what is your race’s attitude to such a relationship?”

Kirk stared at her, seemed to contemplate the question seriously. He said slowly, “This is the twenty-third century. Things have changed. We used to be narrow-minded about our sexuality. Then humans went out into space and met so many species who were different from us. The Federation forced us to be more accepting of others, and so we’re more tolerant of ourselves.” Kirk was suddenly struck by the parallels between his situation now and his thoughts about women after his transference into Janice’s body. He’d been trying ever since to accept women as they really were; could he accept this change now in himself?

He resumed pacing. “I don’t know what percent of our population are openly practicing homosexuals. Maybe ten percent or less. Homosexual marriage has been sanctioned now for a long time. It’s accepted, or maybe I should say tolerated, but it sure isn’t the norm. There are still a lot of jokes, I know there’s lingering prejudice. As for me….” His voice trailed off, and Sandra was unable to sense his mood, striding away from her so far across the room. The silence lengthened, so she tried a comment of her own.

“I have always believed, Jim, regardless of a race’s shape, size, genders, or customs, that it is the honest emotion of love, or caring if you prefer, that binds us together. Is this not what makes communication between us possible? It is a common thread between Earth and Sandor, Andoria and Rigel, Klinzhai and even, yes, even those supposedly emotionless Vulcans. I read once that emotions between mates and within the family unit is the basic concept incorporated into the Universal Translator. The Maker of All gave this to us, it was wise, and it is good. How can your love for this man be bad, for you or for him?”

Kirk stopped his pacing, and came over in a rush to kneel next to her on the bed. He gripped both her hands hard. “You are so wise, Sandra. And you are right. I believe that too.”

“Then why are you upset?”

“Because,” he shook their hands up and down and his voice was very low, “because I love him so very much, and we’ve been friends for so long, and now everything is changed.” He let go of her and plopped down next to her on the bed, suddenly looking very tired. “There’s so much involved here.”

Sandra observed him for a moment in silence, then slipped off the bed and padded over to the bathroom. She emerged with a glass.

“Here, sit up and drink this. Emotional upset often creates a need to partake of liquid.”

Kirk stared at her in surprise for a moment, then hunched his shoulders once in sudden amusement and drank. He handed the glass back to her with a genuine smile on his face.

“Thanks. It’s just occurred to me that I’m attracted to you because you’re a lot like Spock. Tall, thin, dark-haired. You even talk like him sometimes. My usual preference is for petite blondes, but tonight I only had eyes for you.” He shook his head slowly, looking amazed. “I can’t believe how I’ve deceived myself, or the games we’ve played.”

“The games we’ve played?” she emphasized, and placed herself cross-legged again at the bottom of the bed. “Do you think Spock is also aware of how you feel, and returns your…affection? I had assumed from your distress that your love was one-sided.”

“Oh, no,” he quickly denied, “we’ve been best friends for almost three years now. Well, maybe not three,” he amended, “but two anyway. Something happened a few months ago that brought our feelings of friendship out in the open. At least I labeled it friendship then. I guess,” he propped a pillow up against the brass headboard and leaned against it, looking much calmer and willing to talk, “I guess that’s when we really started playing games.” He ran a hand over his face at the memory. “I can’t believe how two grown men, supposedly intelligent, could care so much and deceive ourselves so well. Do you know that I must have spent half an hour last night convincing myself that what I felt for Spock was not sexual? When I’ve had practically nothing but sexual thoughts of him for weeks and weeks? I’ve even had a very real desire to kiss him, but since it was under slightly unusual circumstances, I explained it away after we hugged good-bye four days ago.”

Sandra looked at him with exasperation, and spoke slowly as if for clarification. “You hugged your friend good-bye, which I assume for you is not typical behavior,” a quick affirming nod from Kirk, “after you had thought of kissing him, and then you convinced yourself that it was not sexually motivated? This does not make sense to me. I do not know you well, Jim, but you do not strike me as a very stupid man.” The look she gave him was part disdain, part humor.

He laughed softly and sank down lower into the cushiony pillow. “Oh, I’m stupid all right, stupid in understanding myself. And that’s not all I’ve done that was stupid.” Kirk seemed eager to confess all now, as if reviewing his emotional errors would clarify them and absolve him of complicity with his own mistakes. “Spock was hurt not too long ago, and I was there when he regained consciousness. I felt the warmth of his hand for hours. But I was so busy and distracted by…other things, I just filed it away under things to consider later.”

“And now you are considering it.”

“Yes.” He paused for a few moments, and seemed to focus inward before he spoke again. “When I had the flu, Spock was with me in my quarters for a while. I ached like hell, but it felt so right to have him there. It was…comforting, hearing him move around, being able to look up and see him at my desk any time. It was a form of...intimacy.” Kirk looked at Sandra, embarrassed at this revelation that seemed to him even more personal than anything that had gone before. But Sandra was interested in something else.

“I do not understand something.” Her words were clipped, and for the first time that night Kirk detected a slightly alien accent. “You said a minute ago that you and your Spock looked at one another. Holding hands I understand, this is an unusual thing for most human males to do. But surely the two of you look at one another all the time, if you work together. What is the significance here?”

“Yeah, I guess it sounds so simple, doesn’t it? But Spock has these most incredible brown eyes, sometimes when we really look at one another, I feel like they just surround me and there’s a link, a bridge between us.” Kirk was gesturing in the air in an attempt to find the right words. “I remember thinking it was strange, the way we’ve been exchanging these long looks the past few months, because that was the way lovers acted. But I never made the conscious connection that we were, could be…lovers. Like I have now.”

Sandra asked softly, “And what do you exchange over this bridge between you?”

Kirk sighed and pushed himself so low in the pillows he was practically lying flat. He reached up to grab a brass bar in each hand and contemplated the ceiling. His voice was low when he spoke. “Affection. Trust. Total absolute trust. I say to him, ‘I’m glad you can give this to me.’ He says to me, ‘I give this only to you’.” Kirk’s voice became a whisper. “Love.” He closed his eyes.

There was silence for a long while. When the moments stretched into minutes, Sandra rose from her perch at the end of the bed and walked to the bathroom. She emerged a few minutes later wearing a fluffy rose colored robe that reached to her ankles. Many men had told her the color flattered her skin tone and hair. She carried another white robe over to the bed and laid it carefully on one side when Kirk showed no sign of acknowledging her presence. She moved about the room quietly, picking up and folding their hastily discarded clothing, finding and replacing the cap on the tube of lubricant she had used. She looked up at a sudden movement, and found Kirk regarding her solemnly, watching her place the tube in the drawer. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“I must have hurt you, a while back.” He nodded towards the drawer, and she realized he could not speak of their sexual encounter in more explicit words. “I’m sorry if I did. Do you need anything? A doctor?”

Sandra shook her head, touched by his concern. Not many of her well-heeled clients would have cared to ask, and fewer still with a genuine caring behind the question. She stayed standing next to the nightstand, not knowing quite what to say to him.

Kirk smiled at her faintly. “I don’t know what you must think of me, babbling on like this, when you don’t even know me, or Spock.” He looked at her evenly, his warm gaze asking for her understanding.

Sandra knelt by the side of the bed swiftly, placed her hands on Kirk’s knees, and tried to find the words he needed. “In my current profession,” she started, “it is not wise to become ‘involved’ with the people I serve. I am an alien here, recently arrived and on a strange world with a strange culture. I have been lonely. My clients come and go, the other women seem shallow and unadventurous. They have not travelled among the stars. But with you, Jim, tonight, I felt some of my loneliness disappear. We talked, you and I, of strange worlds and places, but it was the talk of two beings who understood each other.” She looked at him intently. “I called you nest brother, because I feel that if you and I were to have the chance to know one another well, I could talk with you of the nest secrets. There already is a small bridge between us, not like the one between you and your Spock, not of mates, but one where two friends can meet. I am enriched to share the concerns of a nest brother.”

Kirk stared at her for a moment, a slow smile spreading across his face, then he reached for her kneeling form and clasped her to his chest in a gentle embrace. He murmured, “Thank you,” into her coarse dark hair, and she mumbled, “Any time,” to the point of his shoulder. Kirk laughed at the incongruous sounding colloquialism, wondered if she had said it deliberately, and pushed her away to arm’s length again. He blinked a few times through his smile and said, “All these emotional pyrotechnics have made me hungry. I’m starved. Any chance of getting some food around here?”

Sandra heaved a mock sigh. “You human males. You either eat or you sleep. So predictable.” She rose and brought him the white robe. “Why don’t you shower while I order us a tray?”

He bounded off the bed, filled now with energy. “Sounds good. Why not get us some of those round fried things we had as an appetizer, what do you call them,” snapping his fingers, “timbali weed?” Then he was gone through the bathroom door.

Twenty minutes later they were seated at a table before a curtained window, a substantial snack spread out before them. Sandra daintily placed a few items on her plate. Kirk grinned and said, “Good. Then the rest is for me?” and helped himself to a large serving. They ate for a while in silence, then Sandra said, “Tell me more about Spock, Jim.” At his startled look up she explained, “I know that you work together. I know he has brown eyes. But not much else. I’m just curious.”

“Oh, Sandra, you can’t possibly be interested. I’ve imposed on you enough already….”

She interrupted him. “If I felt imposed upon, I wouldn’t have asked. After listening to you talk this much about him, I feel as if I have something invested here. Don’t you think I deserve to know more? Besides, he must be a fascinating person, to have captivated someone like you. I’m curious.”

Kirk smiled at Sandra’s use of Spock’s favorite word, and relented. “All right.” He put down his fork and eased back in the chair. “Where do I start? There’s so much about him…. Spock’s special, such a very special person. I felt that about him from the very beginning. There’s no one like him that I’ve ever met, probably no one like him in the universe.” Kirk paused, feeling a bit lost in his attempt to explain. He started again, looking for specifics that would somehow paint a picture for Sandra. “Spock’s incredibly intelligent. Not just smart, but more like a true genius. Really. What he doesn’t know about science isn’t worth knowing. And resourceful. Dependable. God, is he dependable. I could never run…do my job without him. And he’s sensitive. Spock projects this image of being cold and stem, uncaring, but really that’s just a front.”

Kirk was obviously warming to his subject, and Sandra enjoyed watching his enthusiasm. “Inside he’s as sensitive and caring as they come. I’ve seen him risk his life for someone who’s reviled and insulted him, because he respects the sanctity of life so much. But when he’s hurt he never shows it, unless you look into his eyes. Which no one ever does, of course, so they think he can’t be hurt. But he can be, and is, by uncaring people. He’s been hurt so much in his life, but he’s never let it change his essential compassion and integrity. I admire that in him so much.”

“What does Spock look like?”

“I already told you, he looks like you. Take away the gillslits, add some slanted eyebrows and pointed ears, and there you are…or there he is.”

Sandra was almost speechless with surprise. “You mean, you mean your Spock is a Vulcan? With pointed ears?”

Kirk stirred in his chair. “Of course he’s a Vulcan, didn’t I say that?”

Sandra threw her head back and laughed uninhibitedly. Kirk stared at her, a little annoyed at her response. When the laughter had subsided to chuckles, Sandra wiped her eyes and supported her head on her hand, elbows propped on the table. “Oh, Jim,” she half-gasped, “you are the most extraordinary person! No, you didn’t tell me Spock is a Vulcan. Only someone as unusual as you are could spend an hour talking about someone and neglect to mention he is of a different species! You are extraordinary!”

Kirk grinned a bit sheepishly and ducked his head. “Well,” he mumbled, “I don’t think of him as Vulcan, I think of him as Spock.”

Sandra regarded him fondly. “Oh, Jim, I hope Spock appreciates you. I am almost tempted to enter the lists against him.” Again the colloquialism sounded strange on her lips. Sandra continued, now seriously, “I think I understand your reaction much better now, though. His being Vulcan does complicate things, doesn’t it? What are you going to do?”

His gaze dropped to the table, and he grabbed a fork and twisted it in the fingers of one hand. “I don’t know,” he said, almost to himself.

His fingers stilled, he was silent for a moment, and his face became set as he thought. Unbidden, the memory of a conversation he’d had with Spock came to him. They’d talked in his quarters about ordinary things, food, and their mothers, and he had thought then about acceptance. Acceptance. A great peace washed over Kirk now. The answer to the question. Acceptance was what had occurred between them. He would do Spock the honor of accepting not only his friend, but himself, and the feelings that had sprung up between them. Anything less would be dishonest, and Spock was the most honest person Kirk knew. It would not be easy, but Kirk could no more ignore the revelations he’d had tonight than he could run craven from a Klingon battleship. And he’d always relished a challenge. Now that challenge would be in himself: overcoming the easy habits of a heterosexual lifestyle, reversing a lifetime of running away from commitments. For life with Spock would require a commitment, Kirk knew without thinking. He could offer his best friend nothing less.

He didn’t question for a moment if he wanted to do these things, that had apparently already become a given. He did wonder briefly if he could, but Kirk’s always easy self-confidence overran that doubt almost before it could be expressed. Besides, he’d never wanted to so badly before.

Without knowing it, he’d been pacing the length of the room and back again in his concentration. He looked up, a bit startled, when he came to the end of his reverie and found himself in the middle of the room. He had to think for a moment to remember his last comment to Sandra, and he couldn’t help a short laugh when he heard his own uncertain voice in his mind.

“Of course I know what I’ll do,” Kirk said confidently. He felt alive, whole, vital. How could he have been shocked at this integral part of himself? “I’ll do what I’ve always done. Face the enemy and fight him. Only this time,” he grinned, “I don’t think there will be much of a fight.” He felt filled up with a sudden happiness. Together, with Spock. Sharing life with his best friend. Taking their special relationship to its logical conclusion. Sex, with his best friend. Love, and sharing. Suddenly, urgently, he couldn’t wait to get back to Spock, to the ship, and the resumption of his life. The ten days until the _Enterprise_ returned loomed endlessly before him. But it was a sweet hurt, and he’d fight to keep it.

Sandra was observing him warily from her chair by the table. “You seem so sure of yourself all of a sudden,” she said wonderingly. “Are you really?”

Kirk walked over to her side with a new stride she hadn’t seen before. A few Klingons had, and the bridge crew of the _Enterprise_ , but this was the first time Sandra had encountered a confident, in-charge starship captain in the midst of resolving a crisis. Kirk pulled her up to stand before him, holding her hands between them in a characteristic way. “It’s the way I am,” he said simply. “Knowing what I want and acting on it is part of what makes me what I am. If nothing else, four days of testing has reminded me of that. And how could I still doubt myself when it’s so clear to me now? And how can I doubt Spock when he’s shown me how he feels time and again? If I’ve come to see what’s happening between us, well, he’s no less perceptive. If Spock believes in anything, it’s the truth. It might take a while to get where we’re going,” he grinned and squeezed her hands, “since he tends to travel at his own speed, but now that I finally know what road I’m on, there will be no more roadblocks, no more dead ends.”

His enthusiasm was contagious, the joy in his voice unmistakable, and Sandra found herself caught up in a big bear hug, lifted off her feet, and twirled around the room. They both laughed out loud, and Kirk kissed her with loud wet smacks on her cheek, punctuating them by shouting, “Thank you, thank you, thank you”.

It was a long while afterwards that Kirk finally succumbed to a need for sleep. Sandra thought she heard, right before he drifted off, “I never had a sister before.” She looked at his sleeping face, startled, then took his hand and slowly traced in his palm the sign of the nest. Settling back and sighing, she watched Jim sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

“Ensign Singh, monitor those vessels for signs of transporter use. Determine the identity of the freighter.” 

“Aye, sir.”

“Prepare to fire phasers.”

“Yes, sir, phasers locked on target.”

“No, Mister Chekov, I believe a warning shot a few hundred meters aft will suffice.”

Although McCoy threw Spock a quizzical look from his habitual station next to the captain’s chair, he remained silent. No way he was going to interrupt the _Enterprise’s_ first action with Spock in command.

“Aye, sir, phasers prepared for a warning shot.”

“Shields down, fire at will, Ensign.”

The whistling sound of the phasers issuing from their casing reverberated throughout the ship.

“Phasers fired, sir, a clear miss.”

“Shields up, Mister Sulu.” McCoy nodded, then crossed his arms over his chest. He approved of the first officer’s caution. You never knew what those bastard Orions would do.

Spock turned his head towards the communications station, but kept the command chair facing the center screen. “Lieutenant Uhura, continue your attempts to warn off the Orion ship. They may desist with their jamming efforts.”

“Yes, Mister Spock.”

Spock addressed Sulu. “Close scan of the freighter on the screen.”

The center screen showed no change in the brutal scene they had come upon just moments before. The unarmed freighter was caught in a tractor beam, and must have been easy prey for the Orion pirate ship not 2500 meters away. One hole gaped in the cargo hold. Another showed astern, over what looked to be the ship’s propulsion system. The sensor dish mounted to the front had been sheared off and hung by a threadlike connection. The freighter itself was massive and appeared to be of the newest design. “JC” in stylized script was emblazoned across the hull in several places, not yet worn away by the relentless assault of interstellar dust.

The bridge crew examined the ship for a few moments. Spock then ordered a long-range view showing both the freighter and the attacking ship. Neither vessel had shown any indication that they were aware the _Enterprise_ was there, and no communication had been established among the ships. The Orion ship held relentlessly to the tractor beam linking it to its prize and had so far not fired on the _Enterprise_. Now it was apparently ignoring the warning shot just fired, although surely it had been registered by both ships.

Spock turned to the hapless ensign who had taken over the science station when Chekov had been ordered to the weaponry board.

“Do you have an identification for the freighter as yet, Ensign?” If Spock had been at the computer console, the information would have been provided to his captain in moments, not minutes. But Spock had mastered his station years ago and could usually read the computer chatter directly without translation. He made allowances for human abilities and inexperience.

“Yes, sir,” the young ensign straightened from the viewer and faced Spock, tugging surreptitiously at the back hem of her short uniform. “The freighter is the __Pride of Europe_ , _ owned by the Johnson Combine, carrying agricultural machinery, foodstuffs, and pharmaceutical drugs.”

“What is its destination, Ensign Singh?” Spock inquired calmly, still eyeing the screen showing the two apparently inactive ships. He had been puzzled over the freighter’s appearance in space so near the dangerous Orion zone. Due to the increased Orion activity, all commercial vessels had been warned by Starfleet to steer clear of the area.

The woman turned to check the display at her station. “Ultimate destination is Rigel 10, sir, with pickups at Johnson Agricultural Colonies one and three, and the Vegan system.”

McCoy spoke up for the first time since his arrival on the bridge. “Rigel? That’s more than a hundred light years away, practically in another quadrant. What the hell are they doing out here by the Orion zone?”

“What indeed, Doctor?” Spock steepled his fingers, elbows on each side of the chair he occupied so unwillingly. He turned again to Uhura. “Lieutenant, any response from the privateer?”

“No, sir, they are still jamming heavily. I am unable to get through to either them or the __Pride of Europe_.” _

Chekov spoke up. “Dis is the first I’ve heard dat the Orions hev the capability to jam.”

Sulu agreed. “And look at that pinpoint shooting. The sensor dish, the engines, even the hole over the cargo didn’t hurt the cargo much. They wanted to cripple the ship without causing much damage. I’ve never heard that the Orions had the weaponry sophisticated enough to do that.”

Spock nodded slowly and straightened. “We may be witnessing an important vitalization of the Orion threat. Or such improved technology may be limited to this one vessel. Previous reports of Orion incursions have not been precise. It would be illogical to extrapolate further without additional evidence.” The bridge crew didn’t blink at Spock’s typical Vulcanism, although McCoy did shift his feet. The crew had found that Spock was frequently right when he made such pronouncements, even though the captain and Doctor McCoy made a habit of teasing the first officer over his verboseness. But even Doctor McCoy knew now was not the time to tease.

Spock continued, “We have given the Orions three point five minutes to respond. Perhaps another display of phasers is required to convince them of our intentions. Mister Chekov….”

Before the first officer could complete his command, a stream of light issued from the image of the Orion ship on the screen and the _Enterprise_ rocked slightly from the impact.

Chekov grinned. “Improved veaponry, maybe, but still nothink that vill touch our shields!”

“Perhaps.” Spock was non-committal, and had resumed his steepled fingers’ position. “Mister Chekov, attempt to disable the Orion vessel without destroying it. Starfleet Command will no doubt be interested in receiving a comprehensive report on its new capabilities. Lower our shields when you are ready to fire.”

“Aye, aye, sair,” Chekov responded with relish, and set about adjusting the settings on his board. “Phasers firing.” This burst of light was a sustained attempt to break the enemy’s shields. On the viewscreen, the aura surrounding the faraway ship began to shimmer, and soon became an iridescent green under the onslaught of the _Enterprise’s_ mighty weaponry. If the Orions had been willing to relinquish the freighter from their tractor beam, they might have been able to turn and flee, but the beam remained stubbornly on, and the alien ship continued to take the full brunt of a phaser attack.

Chekov carefully monitored the scene from his board. The trick was to destroy the shields without vaporizing the ship as well. It required a delicate touch, pinpoint control of the computers, and total concentration. “Did it!” the ensign exulted, as the shields flared once on the screen and then disappeared. The pirate listed to one side and appeared to be drifting away from the __Pride of Europe_ ,_ the tractor beam no longer binding them. Each member of the bridge crew celebrated with the Russian, Sulu even clapping him on the back in elation.

Spock quietly ordered, “Shields up.” He was obviously taking no chances. Then, “Ensign, continue to monitor for transporter activity.”

McCoy was incredulous. “What, do you expect the Orions to try to board us?”

“Such action is not outside the realm of possibility, Doctor. But to answer your question directly, no, I do not. However, they may attempt to take hostages from the freighter.”

McCoy subsided from his weight-on-his-toes stance. “Oh.” He hadn’t thought of that, but wasn’t really surprised that Spock had.

“Mister Spock,” Lieutenant Uhura’s soft voice interrupted. “I now have contact with the captain of the __Pride of Europe_.”_

“Hold the captain, Lieutenant. Open a line to the Orion vessel.”

“Yes, sir.” While Uhura’s quiet tones called for the Orion captain, McCoy commented, _sotto voce,_ “The last time we tangled with an Orion, if I recall, they blew themselves up.”

A brilliant explosion caused all on the bridge to flinch away from the viewscreen before the automatic controls dampened the view. There was total silence, then Spock swiveled his chair to McCoy and looked at him mutely.

McCoy swallowed hard and stared at the empty space where the Orion ship had been a moment ago. He whispered, “I’ll never understand that. Such a waste. What did they think we would do to them?”

“Indeed. Or what did they think we would find? Ensign, scan for debris large enough to be of use to us. Lieutenant, put the captain of the __Pride of Europe__ on the screen.”

The commands issued smoothly from Spock’s lips, and McCoy glanced at the Vulcan’s impassive face. He knew Spock must be profoundly saddened at the loss of life, even Orion life, which they had just witnessed. But the first officer was hiding it well and had his command persona firmly in place. McCoy didn’t know exactly what he had been looking for when he had rushed to the bridge, didn’t know if he had been ready to criticize or offer support. Spock had clearly needed neither, and the doctor was pleased. He could imagine relating these events to Jim, who would be even more pleased. But it wasn’t over yet.

The image of the _Pride of Europe’s_ captain took shape on the screen. She was a middle-aged woman, capable looking, dressed in a blue, two-piece jacketed outfit that vaguely resembled a uniform. Her dark hair was pulled severely back in a bun at her neck. Behind her, a bridge console was still smoking, and a crewman, similarly dressed, was spraying the board with foam from a portable canister.

The woman looked up from her examination of a com slate as her screen came to life, carrying the picture of the _Enterprise’s_ bridge to her. She spoke quickly, before Spock could make the expected overtures.

“This is Captain Marla Johnson of the _Pride of Europe_ , a Johnson Combine transport.” Her eyes narrowed, and her gaze deliberately skimmed from one _Enterprise_ face to another, finally resting on the Vulcan seated in the center seat. “Where is the captain of your vessel?” she demanded in a hard voice. The woman stared unwaveringly at Spock. “Surely you cannot be in command?”

Spock’s eyebrow soared, and McCoy took one step forward to lay a hand on the back of the command chair. The first officer replied with composure. “I am Commander Spock, in command of the Federation starship _Enterprise_. May we assist you with repairs to your ship? If you have casualties, we have medical personnel and equipment on board.”

The woman was staring at Spock with narrowed eyes. She seemed not to have heard what he had just said. “I remember now,” she said reflectively, speaking as if no one else were there to hear. “You’re that…” her distaste became obvious, “half-human Starfleet officer. The one whose father is some big-wig alien ambassador, with all the clout.”

McCoy’s hand tightened furiously on the backrest of the command chair, and all around him the bridge crew stirred. He could clearly hear Uhura’s sharply indrawn breath of indignation. What was going on here? Bad enough they were fighting Orions without the captain, now Spock had to face prejudice and insinuations of favoritism? Who the hell did this bitch think she was’?

A less familiar observer would not have noticed any reaction from Spock to the woman’s words. But McCoy, standing right behind him, noticed a sudden strain in the neck muscles, and a tightening of the fingers of one hand against the chair’s console. When he stepped forward just a bit so he could see Spock’s face, he was unsurprised to see the familiar Vulcan mask already in place. Damnit!

If Spock’s reaction was evident in his body language, it was totally absent from his calm reply. “I am Spock,” he said, bowing his head in acknowledgment, then continued, “and your vessel has just been rescued from an Orion attack by the _Enterprise_ , which I am commanding.” The reminder was unsubtle, and McCoy was surprised and pleased at Spock’s defense. The first officer went on patiently, as if now speaking to a not particularly bright child, “May we assist you with your repairs?”

For the first time since her image had appeared on the viewscreen, Captain Johnson lost her haughty demeanor. The woman bit her lip with vexation. It was clear she did not relish the reminder of her rescuer, or of the diminished capacity of her ship. McCoy rated the change of expression a clear victory for Spock.

She said reluctantly, “I suppose I have no choice. My sensory apparatus is almost non-functional, and our engines have been damaged as well. Not to mention the damage to our cargo. I can’t go anyplace like this. But what can you possibly do for all that?” Her hostility was unmistakable.

Spock would not be goaded by her inexplicable reaction. “A Federation starship, any starship, is capable of many things, Captain Johnson. We will beam a group of specialists to your transporter facility within a few minutes. They will assist you in assessing damage and estimating repair time.” Uncharacteristically, he added, “Commander Spock out.”

Uhura cut the contact, and there was a release of held breath all over the bridge. Both Sulu and Chekov half-turned their chairs towards Spock, and Uhura rose to stand just a few feet away from the command chair on the upper level of the bridge. McCoy was warmed by the silent show of support, and wondered if Spock would acknowledge it. Probably not. As a matter of fact, despite everyone’s obvious indignation, no one seemed to know what to say. Well, McCoy knew how to deal with that.

“What’s the matter with that blasted woman? I’ve heard of people who don’t like Vulcans before, but that was ridiculous. You’d think she didn’t want our help. And how about a little ‘Thank you very much?’ They’d be mincemeat in Orion slaveholds if we hadn’t come along!” The doctor was loudly indignant.

Spock was fingering his lower lip with his thumb, usually a sure sign that he was disturbed. He seemed oblivious to the reactions of the rest of the crew. “Indeed. Although human emotional response is typically unpredictable, Captain Johnson’s was most peculiar.” After a moment, he turned to Uhura. “Lieutenant, assemble a small group from Engineering and Maintenance to transport to the freighter.” Spock’s calm acceptance of the situation and McCoy’s typical blustering seemed to have swiftly diffused any righteous indignation and brought the bridge back to normal.

“Aye, aye, sir,” Uhura said briskly, with just the hint of a smile, and turned back to her console.

Spock rose from his seat and turned to McCoy. “Doctor, perhaps you would care to accompany me as well?”

McCoy was already halfway up the steps to the turbolift. “Of course I’m going. They probably have casualties that woman doesn’t even know about.” He threw over his shoulder to Uhura, “Tell Carello to get our med-kits and meet me at the transporter.”

Before Spock entered the lift with the impatiently waiting McCoy, he stopped to instruct, “Mister Sulu, you have the con. Continue to scan for any debris from the Orion ship that would be beneficial to analyze. Remain alert for other Orion pirates. I will stay in contact via communicator.”

“Yes, sir,” Sulu replied with a bit more than his usual zip.

Spock paused just a moment to survey the bridge crew before entering the lift. “Indeed,” he murmured, loudly enough so that everyone heard. Chekov exchanged a quick look with Sulu and grinned.

McCoy and Spock rode the turbolift in silence for a few moments. Spock speculated to himself on Captain Johnson’s unusual behavior, correlated what little data they had, and concluded that further data collection was in order. He did not permit himself an emotional reaction to her words; it was an exercise he had perfected in the face of taunts and insults from his childhood. However, Spock was somewhat puzzled that the woman’s hostility was so overt. Usually, the prejudice or unease he had encountered in his adult years was much more subtle, the barbs hidden behind banter.

Spock briefly wondered what Jim would do in such a situation, and then banished his captain’s image from his mind. He could not afford to have his logical thought processes disrupted by emotion at this time. He would indulge himself with thoughts of his friend when the current crisis was resolved.

McCoy was busy twiddling his thumbs behind his back, and wondering if he should say anything to Spock about his performance on the bridge. Not about Captain Johnson’s hostility, for which words were not necessary, but about the way Spock had conducted the whole attack against the Orion ship. McCoy had become the ship’s self-appointed critic-at-large and conscience shortly after his arrival on the _Enterprise_ , and his relationship with Spock had consequently been quite stormy. There had been that incident with the Tholians when they had thought Jim was dead. He’d been really rough on Spock then, and even if his reactions had been caused by the anomalies of the space they’d been in, he still felt chagrined by that whole affair. Maybe now was the time to make amends, when he could honestly express some appreciation for Spock’s command of the ship in a difficult situation.

McCoy cleared his throat. “Spock?”

Spock turned him a mild eye. “Yes, doctor?”

McCoy’s courage failed him. The habits of combat with the Vulcan were too strong to break, and besides, such an admission would change the whole tenor of their relationship. He wasn’t prepared for that. So instead of offering an olive branch, McCoy challenged, “So how come you’re going on this landing party? I thought you’ve never liked it when Jim left the bridge on some tomfool excursion?”

Spock stared at him for a moment as if he were demented, then patiently explained, “Does not Captain Johnson’s behavior disturb you? Could it be connected with her vessel being considerably off course and dangerously near Orion territory? Since I personally appeared to be a focus of her displeasure, it is logical for me to provoke further data, if possible, and pursue the answers to these questions. I would be derelict in my duty if I did not undertake such a ‘tomfool’ excursion, as you put it.” He turned to face the turbolift doors. “In addition, the captain is rarely as fool-hardy as many other humans I know.”

Spock’s timing was perfect. The lift slowed, the doors opened, and Spock moved out smartly, leaving a sputtering doctor in his wake. McCoy abandoned all remaining thoughts of reconciliation. “You pompous, stiff-necked, green-blooded…” he muttered under his breath as he followed Spock to the transporter. Easy for Spock to deliver a maddening line in that precise, logical voice guaranteed to infuriate McCoy. Those blasted, perfectly ordered brain cells probably had nothing better to do but count the levels as they passed, and knew precisely when the Vulcan could deliver and run. A faraway part of the doctor acknowledged the new expertise Spock had shown in their ongoing mock battle, and filed the information away to tell Jim. Maybe. Once he’d renewed his own ammunition.

Engineer Scott, his chief assistant, Lieutenant Dawson, Lieutenant Commander Fraser, and new Engineering Ensign Oma Shinswani were awaiting them, clustered about the console.

Spock briefed them on what had happened, concluding by saying, “Do not confine your attention to repairs alone. There is something unusual about this ship, its course, and the behavior of its captain. Be alert to anomalies, and pursue them if necessary.”

“A…feeling you’ve got, Mister Spock?” McCoy asked from his position next to Nurse Carello. He was still smarting from their last exchange.

“Do not be insulting, Doctor,” Spock rejoined quickly. “There are seven in our party, so I will transport over alone first. Mister Scott,” the Vulcan stepped to the transporter pad the captain habitually used, hesitated, and then firmly moved over to the one immediately to one side of it. “Energize.”

The next few hours passed swiftly. Although Captain Johnson was stiff, she was formally correct and exhibited no further overt hostility. Spock was all severe Vulcan courtesy, an attitude his shipmates would not have recognized in him, as it included an intimidating formality not seen aboard the _Enterprise_ since they had last had the misfortune to transport a Vulcan diplomatic party. For whatever reason, Spock judged it best to hide the many subtle human characteristics he had allowed to encroach over the years. It was a stem, emotionless, and forbidding Vulcan who boarded the _Pride of Europe_. He participated with the initial group in evaluating the need for and extent of repairs, then worked with engineering personnel once reinforcements were called over from the _Enterprise_. Before an hour had passed, Fraser’s voice informed them proudly over the intercom that the breached cargo hull had been patched. With that achievement, and repairs on the engine progressing nicely, Spock sought out Captain Johnson on the bridge and icily requested a tour of the ship. She nodded abruptly, then rudely tamed her back on the Vulcan to direct her second-in-command to inspect the cargo with all due precautions.

They moved slowly through the ship, pausing to inspect the repairs, speaking only when necessary. When they reached the last damaged part of the freighter, the small auxiliary control room, they found Engineering Ensign Shinswani putting the final touches on some board repair. Spock judged that his silence had had enough time to bear fruit. He had given Captain Johnson almost an hour to worry about when and whether he would ask her the incriminating question, and he was counting on her obvious personal dislike of him to further force the woman off balance. He stopped their forward progress abruptly and turned to the human beside him, waiting until he had her full attention.

“Captain Johnson, your ship is far from its stated destination.” A long pause to allow her to feel his stare. “It is in dangerous space that Starfleet has warned against. Why?” He deliberately curbed his usually instinctive urge to add more to the question. Jim had often demonstrated the advantages of brevity during a verbal attack.

Captain Johnson tried to stare back at him levelly, but she could not hide her slightly indrawn breath from his Vulcan ears, or the momentary widening of eyes before she turned away. Good. His perceptions had not been incorrect. She was hiding something.

She also could not hide the distaste in her expression when she turned back to answer. That it was directed at him he had no doubt. That he had done nothing to warrant her animosity he was also certain.

“We’d been having problems with our navigation comp, even before the Orion attack. We drifted blind for more than 24 hours, and when we finally got our bearings, well, there was the pirate. Believe me, Commander Spock,” the human struck her heart in what must have been a cultural symbol for truth. “I never had any intention of bringing my ship so close to danger. My cargo is too valuable for that.”

“Indeed,” Spock intoned, carefully hiding his disbelief. In his experience of humans, Captain Johnson was atypical. Most humans put far greater value on life than on cargo, specifically their own lives. Captain Johnson’s existence as a free being had been threatened by the Orion slaveholds, yet she had evinced little concern for herself or her crew, but much concern over her cargo. In a way, she reminded him of Jim, of a woman dedicated to something above herself. Not that Jim would ever put less than ultimate value on life; it was one of his most admirable qualities that made him an extraordinary commander. Led by his commitment to the Federation’s ideals, Jim nevertheless mourned the loss of any member of his crew, and welcomed each new life form with a respectful regard for its own being, and culture. As he had welcomed Spock himself….

He tore his mind away from such compelling thoughts and back to the matter at hand. He must be certain to meditate at the first opportunity, and reinforce his proper controls and discipline. Spock was well aware of missing his captain’s company during this voyage, and even of resenting this interruption of their developing friendship. He was fiercely determined not to allow his preoccupation with Jim to hinder the performance of his duty.

Fortunately his lapse was apparent only to himself; Captain Johnson saw only an unyielding Vulcan. “I presume that the navigational malfunction has been corrected?”

“Yes.”

“And your cargo is now safe?”

“Yes.” The captain seemed unwilling to say more. Perhaps she was too nervous to do so, and feared speech would reveal what she hoped to conceal. Or perhaps his perceptions throughout this protracted unpleasant interview had been distorted, since he was dealing with a person obviously uncomfortable in a Vulcan’s presence. It had been many years since he had encountered such an attitude, since he had found his place, and then acceptance, on the _Enterprise_. Perhaps now, with Jim, something more. Yet after all his years among humans, he knew he was still capable of misunderstanding their emotional reactions….

As Johnson started to leave the auxiliary control room, Spock caught Shinswani’s eye. She had been an unavoidable witness to their exchange. Spock raised an eyebrow and nodded significantly. Hopefully Captain Johnson would interpret this as his normal way of taking leave of crewmembers. Perhaps Shinswani would as well. But if she actually deserved Engineer Scott’s enthusiasms, she would know what to do.

McCoy was waiting for him when Johnson escorted Spock to the freighter’s transporter room. She had the grace to look embarrassed when she forced out a few words of gratitude for the _Enterprise’s_ help.

Spock nodded. “Will you, along with your senior crew, be kind enough to join us for a meal aboard the _Enterprise_?” It was a common gesture, regularly extended by Captain Kirk to any other ship they encountered. It would have been bad manners not to offer the starship’s facilities and companionship.

Spock watched closely as Captain Johnson made as if to take a step backward, caught herself, and said hastily, “No, that will not be necessary. With just another hour’s work, we can be on our way. We’re already behind schedule.” Without a thank you, she stepped behind the transporter controls and sent them back to the starship.

McCoy kept step with him as they walked along the corridor and into a briefing room. Spock was looking thoughtful as he seated himself and punched in the intercom on the table. “Spock to bridge.”

“Bridge, Sulu here.”

“I am now on board the _Enterprise_ , Mister Sulu. Status?”

“No sign of any more pirates, Mister Spock. None of the debris from the Orions’ ship told us anything, but we took some on board anyway for your analysis. Mister Scott just reported in that he should be finished on the _Pride of Europe_ in another thirty minutes.”

“Very well, Mister Sulu. Lieutenant Uhura?” 

“Uhura here, Mister Spock.”

“Ms. Uhura, please determine the relationship, if any, between Wade Johnson, administrator of the Johnson Combine Agricultural Colony #7, and Marla Johnson, captain of the _Pride of Europe_.”

“Yes, Mister Spock, I’ll on it right away.” Uhura’s melodious voice sounded a bit surprised, but warm in reply. The bridge crew had not yet forgotten the slight to their commanding officer.

When Spock switched off, McCoy said irritably, “What do you need to know that for?” He was sitting sideways from the table, a coffee cup clutched in one hand already. It had been a long day even before the Orion attack, and now they would all have to go through debriefing, too.

Spock took the doctor’s question seriously. He folded both hands on the table before him and prepared to expound. “I do not believe in coincidence, Doctor, do you?” McCoy did not bother to respond to this rhetorical question. “Coincidences are illogical. Usually motivating factors can be found if circumstances are probed deeply enough.” McCoy also did not attempt to hide his rolling eyes. Spock ignored them.

“In this case, I do not believe extensive investigation will be required. Twice now, recently, the _Enterprise_ has been involved with property owned by the Johnson Combine. In each instance, strange circumstances surrounded our encounters. And each Johnson Combine project is led by an individual with the surname Johnson.”

Despite his intention to be ornery, McCoy found himself getting interested. But what was Spook’s point?

Spock continued. “Surely the family is not so numerous that each one of their company’s projects can be headed by a competent person related to the family? I find it especially interesting that the command of a freighter is such an insignificant post, and that the agricultural colony is a newly established, small one.”

McCoy decided to play his usual role. “Just interesting, Spock, not fascinating?” The familiar jibe did not affect its expected target. Spock did not react. “Hell, don’t you realize that Johnson is a really common Earth name? This all is probably just…illogical coincidence.”

“We shall see, Doctor.”

By then the senior members of the team who had worked on the _Pride of Europe_ began to file in for the debriefing. Details on the swift repair of the breached cargo hull and the sensor dish were summarized as if they were commonplace by the tired men and women. Someone had had the foresight to prepare a carafe of coffee and cups for the room; after a few reports McCoy rose, dialed a selection from the processor along one wall, and placed a steaming cup in front of the preoccupied first officer. Spock did not respond to the peace offering, but later the doctor saw him sipping from the cup of herbal tea. Good. Even Vulcans needed to drink, and he had never known Spock to touch coffee.

The reports seemed to go on forever, although Spock maintained his courteous attention for each crewmember’s story. To a few, he said, “Your attention to detail is noted,” or “Your skills have been well used today.” Restrained comments, but appreciated by those few who received them.

Finally, only Spock, McCoy, Fraser, Shinswani and Scott were left in the room. The Engineer had held back with his report on the engines until the last, and now finished its technical details with a flourish. “So, we fixed her up right, and they should be able to finish their run with no trouble. However….”

When the Engineer paused, Spock raised an eyebrow. “Mister Scott?”

“Captain Johnson and I had quite a conversation, sir, when she visited Engineering after you left.” Scotty shook his head at the memory. “She seemed verra interested in you, Mister Spock. Wanted to know all about you. When you received command, when the Federation had changed its policy against non-human captains.” The Scotsman sounded perplexed and indignant at the same time. “I told her that Starfleet had nae e’er had such a policy, but I could tell she didna believe me. Verna unhappy, Captain Johnson seemed, verra unhappy indeed. And worried, sir. That woman was worried aboot somethin’. You asked for reports on anything strange or unusual, and that woman struck me as mighty strange. Snooping aboot and no gratitude for the service we were doin’ her and her ship. But this lassie here,” he indicated Shinswani seated to his left, “has even better information for ye,” and he settled back with a smug expression.

All eyes rested on the young, newly promoted officer, who swallowed hard but otherwise concealed any nervousness. McCoy noted idly that the Engineering red uniform suited her pale coloring and complemented her jet black hair, but not much could be done about the slim, even boyish figure. No curves at all. Four foot ten and built like a stick. Well, she did have nice hair.

Shinswani’s eyes fixed on Spock, and her soft voice did not waver as she gave her report. “Sir, after you left auxiliary control, I took the liberty of checking their navigational computers. I thought that is what you wanted me to do.” Spock nodded, and she continued. “The controls reacted perfectly to the few diagnostic tests I could run. So then I called up the captain’s log for the last week. There wasn’t any mention of any navigational problem at all, just regular entries you would expect.”

Fraser was goggling at the erstwhile maintenance tech. “Ensign, you broke into that ship’s log? Don’t you know that’s strictly privileged information? An offense punishable by….”

Spock cut him off. “Mister Fraser, Ensign Shinswani undertook her actions at my request. If there is any blame, I will assume it.”

Fraser subsided. But Scotty was grinning at Shinswani with a proprietary air, determined to press his advantage over his rival to the fullest. “Aye, and a fine bit of work it must have been, too. Not easy to have found an override for the captain’s voice lock.”

Shinswani had the grace to look embarrassed but continued her report. “Sir, something else odd happened. After my work in auxiliary control, I went to help in the cargo section. We’d finished sealing the breach, but I thought many of the auxiliary systems at the point of impact would need work. But the ship’s first officer wouldn’t even let me near. I was stopped and told only crew with full environmental suits could enter the cargo hold, per Captain Johnson’s orders. I told them I’d be happy to suit up, but they weren’t interested in my help. That’s when I reported back to Mister Scott. But I thought what I’d seen was a bit odd, and you should know.”

McCoy had been actively frowning through the last part of Shinswani’s narrative, and now he moved forward in his chair and punched the computer in the center of the table. “This doesn’t make sense,” he mumbled, clearly thinking out loud, “laxatrin, ecopton, seruvinex…,” his finger followed a list down the screen, then slapped the computer off with emphasis.

“There’s nothing on that ship’s manifest that could possibly be dangerous enough to require full environmental suits. There simply isn’t anything harmful there.”

Spock folded his arms on the table before him. “Then we must assume that there is something within the cargo hold that does not appear on the manifest, some substance that would be harmful. Logically, a pharmaceutical of some kind.”

“Drugs,” McCoy breathed. “They’ve got to be transporting illegal drugs.”

“No such conclusion is necessary, Doctor. There are various other explanations for this situation. However, that is one possibility to consider.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Spock said quietly, “You are dismissed, Ensign. I commend you on your perception, and your actions. A notation to that effect will be entered in your records.” Shinswani nodded once, trying to hide her pleased expression, and then left.

Before anyone could break the silence that had descended over the table, Uhura’s voice emerged from the intercom.

“Bridge to Mister Spock.”

“Spock here, Lieutenant.” He hit the button that provided a visual image.

“Sir, I have that information you requested. Wade and Marla Johnson are first cousins. They each sit on the Johnson Combine Board, and are very wealthy.”

Spock turned in his seat to eye McCoy. “Is there any information concerning how they have been recently occupying themselves?”

“Yes, sir. Captain Johnson received command of her vessel just six months ago. Previously, she spent most of her time racing space yachts. Wade Johnson has been the Director of Research for the pharmaceutical branch of the Combine for several years; he was posted to the agricultural colony nine months ago.” Uhura turned to look over her shoulder, and there was the muffled sound of Lieutenant Sulu’s voice coming from the bridge. “Mister Spock, the _Pride of Europe_ is moving off. They appear to be preparing for warp speed.”

Scotty grumbled, “Aye, and without a by your leave, either.”

After flicking the Engineer an enigmatic look, Spock returned to the image of the woman on the screen before him. “Acknowledged, Lieutenant. Spock out.”

“What,” McCoy sputtered, “are you just going to let them go? Shouldn’t we stop and search them?”

“On what grounds, Doctor?” If he had been human, Spock would have heaved a frustrated sigh. His hands were obviously tied in the matter. Must he explain what was elementary? Jim would have needed no such words, indeed would have possibly been far ahead of his own thinking…. Spock clamped down hard on the thought, distressed at his wandering again. Meditation was definitely called for, soon.

He continued, resigned to an explanation. “We have no real evidence of wrongdoing; speculations are not evidence, strange coincidences do not necessarily mask illegal intent. I would ask for what possible reason we could make demands on Captain Johnson?”

“How about the evidence Shinswani got from the ship’s log?” Fraser offered somewhat forcefully.

“Lack of evidence, more properly put, Mister Fraser, and inconclusive at best. No mention of a breakdown of navigational controls does not necessarily imply one did not occur. Civilian log procedures cannot be depended upon; they are not as stringent as military ones. Their explanation for being off course may be as simple as the truth they have offered.”

Scotty unexpectedly spoke up. “And the same goes for the cargo hold. A captain’s entitled to an excess of caution. Just because Doctor McCoy here knows those drugs aren’t dangerous doesn’t mean those civilians do. And you can be sure,” Scotty was grim, “that if there is anything in that hold amiss, we’ve given that Johnson woman plenty of time to hide it from anything but a class one search, and we surely won’t be doing that. That freighter is enormous. I could hide an elephant for a month with nae problem.” He turned directly to the first officer. “I think you’re right, Mister Spock. There’s no sense at all in stopping the freighter. We’d do naught but embarrass ourselves. There’s no way we can justify a search, and we’ve naught to hang our hat on.”

Spock said quietly, “Inaccurately put, but essentially correct, Engineer. It is the decision I have made.” Spook’s soft-spoken words served to remind them all that this conversation was not a debate. He went on, “We cannot ignore our directive from Starfleet Command to patrol this area and prevent further Orion aggression. That task must be our primary concern.”

McCoy spoke up. “But what in blue blazes were they doing out here? Making an illegal drug delivery? Where to?”

Spock spoke slowly. “It would be easy to say the Orions, Doctor. It is well known that they are drug smugglers.”

McCoy gave a short bark of a laugh. “Right. I find it a little strange that the Orions attack their own suppliers.”

“You are correct. It is most illogical.” The Vulcan fingered his upper lip and stared at the table before him. “However, I also find it most curious that this is the second time in a month that we have encountered illegal drugs and a member of the Johnson family together. As I have stated before, I do not believe in coincidence.”

Silence descended among the four men. Scotty sighed. “We have too many loose ends. We need more information.”

“Agreed, Engineer. Until we possess it, we must continue with our primary mission.”

Scotty nodded. “I’ll still be a-wondering what the truth is, just the same.” His face brightened with a sudden new thought, and he turned to Fraser with enthusiasm. “Aye, but wasn’t the lassie fine, though? Imagine such good computer work and her bein’ so new to the position. We’re expectin’ great things from Shinswani in Engineering.” His challenge was unmistakable.

Fraser bristled predictably. He rose and, after nodding to Spock, followed an expectant Scott out the door. “She learned everything she knows in Maintenance, and you know that, Montgomery.” The door closed on them, and a sure battle royale. Scotty hated being called Montgomery.

“You don’t really believe there’s nothing going on, do you, Spock?” McCoy asked quietly.

Spock was fingering his lip again, and had appeared oblivious throughout the comic exchange. His hand dropped and he said, “Agreed, Doctor. The _Pride of Europe_ is almost certainly involved in illegal actions of some sort. Our informants on the Johnson Agricultural Colony warned of strange, possibly illegal activity. Are they connected? At this time, I do not know.” The first officer lapsed into concentration, one long finger stroking his upper lip now in an almost sensuous gesture. Watching the so controlled Vulcan engage in even this minor display of physicality made McCoy uncomfortable, and he turned his eyes away until Spock spoke again.

“Captain Johnson did not like me, Doctor.” Spock’s eyes rose to meet McCoy’s in a steady regard. “Because, I believe, I am a Vulcan. She was acutely uncomfortable in my presence. The drug that the agricultural colony was purported to be ready to beam aboard the _Enterprise_ was directed at only the non-human members of our crew. And Technician Walls harbored an unreasoning hatred of non-humans. That is a coincidence that deserves much contemplation.”

McCoy tried to think about that for a while, all the implications, but his tired mind couldn’t grasp it all. He sighed with frustration. “We all have a feeling something’s not right, but there’s nothing to pin down. Besides, I’ve got the jumps from not enough sleep. I’m not thinking straight. I’d better hit the sack, and you should too. You’ve done everything you can.”

The doctor drained his coffee cup, then rose and moved to the door. Looking back, he saw that Spock was still seated at the table, contemplating the surface before him. He had closed in on himself, drawn an invisible wall around himself in a way that perhaps only McCoy and Jim of all those aboard the ship would recognize. Only he and Jim…. The harsh contemplative visage and the sudden quiet in the previously noisy room seemed to emphasize the first officer’s isolation. McCoy moved back to the table and sat down.

“Uh, Spock?”

The first officer’s eyes flew to his face without moving another muscle of the crossed arms’ posture. “Yes, Doctor?”

“You know, it occurs to me that Starfleet Command is really asking a lot from you.”

An eyebrow shot up. Spock’s curiosity was roused. Good.

“In what way, Doctor McCoy?” Spock seemed genuinely interested.

McCoy firmed his resolution to continue. After all, he was the ship’s chief medical officer, and he had a feeling he hadn’t been fulfilling that role with this man very well. Feuding was all well and good, but there was the psychological state of the acting captain to consider. “When Starfleet gave command of the _Enterprise_ to you, and put Jim down on Starbase 11, they weren’t just taking away your captain. They were breaking up the best team in Starfleet.” Mentally, McCoy cringed. _I can’t believe I just said that._

“The two of you are used to acting together, as a team, and now they want you to act alone.” Spock shifted in his seat, but otherwise his attention was glued to McCoy. “They were taking away your best friend, too. Jim’s the only one you ever really talk to, and now you’re in a situation where you might need a friend, might need to talk, but he’s not here. I know I can never replace Jim, whatever’s between the two of you has always been special, even if I don’t understand it….” McCoy felt himself losing his focus and attempted to regroup. “What I mean to say is this. You do know you can talk to me, too, don’t you?” There, not exactly, but close to what he’d meant to say.

Spock was now carefully examining the intercom. His voice was very controlled and low. “I have never doubted…what you offer, Leonard.”

Spock rarely called him by his first name, and McCoy was pleased to hear it now, but Spock obviously could not bring himself to call their relationship friendship. Well, that seemed fair; he hadn’t been able to utter the word himself.

McCoy cleared his throat. “Well, good, ‘slong’s you know I’m here to listen as well as gripe.” He stood up, leaned forward, and lightly punched a shoulder. An eyebrow flew up again. “Part of my job. Keeping the captain happy. And sane.” He sauntered out of the room.

Spock found himself alone in the briefing room. As was his habit when attempting to control an emotional response, he counted slowly and deliberately by twos. Two…four…six…eight. Eight more days until they returned to Starbase Eleven, and the resumption of the most important relationship he had ever had in his life. A relationship McCoy had just vividly reminded him of. But Spock refused to allow himself to think of that now. The briefing room on deck seven was not the place to indulge in personal reminiscence…or speculation.

To control his wayward thoughts, Spock estimated to what number he could count by twos as he walked towards his quarters. He concentrated hard on the approximate speed of the turbolift, the likelihood of other crewmembers diverting it at this time of shift, the exact number of steps from its entrance to his own door. As he walked through that door into the welcome warmth, he was unsurprised to realize that his estimate had been inaccurate by more than ten percent. It was clear that he was distracted, and that was one factor he had failed to take into account.

It was now appropriate for him to disrobe, shower, and meditate, or perhaps even sleep, before rising to dictate his official report. He was weary as well as being distracted, and that condition must be corrected before he re-assumed his command duties. Instead of moving to initiate these actions, Spock stood in the middle of his sleeping chamber and stared at the bed. The thought of such a mindless routine suddenly repelled him. For six days now he had exercised control over his thoughts. Six days since he had been in command of the _Enterprise_. Six days since Jim had left.

Defiantly, Spock took the two steps that brought him to his bunk and carefully lowered himself still onto its hard mattress. To rest upon its length while in his uniform represented undisciplined behavior that he had seldom allowed himself, but he had no desire to change it now. He wanted only to think, to remember….

The memory of his impetuously emotional farewell with Jim was branded not only in the synapses of his brain but in each cell of his body. Where Jim’s arms had circled around his back, he still felt warmth; where Jim’s head had rested on his shoulder, he felt the whisper softness of breath against his neck. Spock stirred on the bed and turned his head to one side as if to encourage again that phantom breathiness. He closed his eyes tightly, to experience the inner vision more vividly.

Spock had not initiated the physical contact, Jim had. But now that it had been done, he could not subdue the memory, nor counteract the longing for more that went with it. He seemed to carry it with him everywhere, everyday. It came with a constant new awareness of himself and what he wanted. An indulgence in his own desires that was new to him, but which he could not deny. There was a new consciousness of his own physicality: as he strode down the corridors of the ship and felt the air brush against his face. As he touched the control buttons of his science console on the bridge, each smooth surface seeming to linger upon his fingerpads. And especially, especially, as he sat within the command chair, which was Jim’s.

Is this, then, what their friendship had become? This need to touch, this longing to hold? It had surprised him, seeming to come unbidden along with the emotions that had permeated the air that day. Spock attempted to distance himself from the impressions that had hold of his soul, tried to see the situation objectively. He tried to imagine the two of them, Starfleet officers, both males, one a human and one a half-breed Vulcan/human, embracing in Jim’s cabin. It was an exercise doomed to failure. Objectivity was impossible. Spock saw only a long trail of understanding, acceptance, support, and friendship that had led up to that moment. A moment that his lonely soul desperately wanted to repeat.

But would Jim? The echo of the words Jim had softly spoken seemed to swirl around his mind. His captain had been touching him on the shoulders then, and his eloquent eyes had carried such an intense look. It seemed clear to Spock that Jim had shared in his own wonder of the moment. They had looked at one another in an entirely new way.

Logically, this was a fact that must be faced. He now desired a physical union with his captain. Spock’s body surged at the images that came to his mind, and restlessly he threw one arm over his head. He was not immune to the desires of the flesh. His own hand caressing the smooth skin, Jim returning his own passion by touching….

Spock’s disciplined mind clamped down hard on his imaginings. Such thoughts were a wanton luxury that he would not allow himself. It would be better, much better to wait until his captain had returned, and ascertain if his interpretation were correct.

If so…. Spock drew in another deep breath. If so, then it seemed it was possible he would be able to touch Jim, to touch his mind, to feel his friend’s hands upon his own body…. Even as his breath quickened, Spock recognized the delaying tactics his mind was using. He forced himself to face the truth, to see it in its entirety. He and Jim could be…sexually involved. As humans put it, lovers. For just a moment, Spock allowed the realization to wash over him, and his body reacted in a predictable way. He ignored the physical response. There was more to a sexual relationship with Jim than merely the demands of the flesh. Even in the brief affairs Jim too frequently initiated, there was an element of emotional gratification. Humans indulged in such activities for many reasons, not least of which was to assuage their emotional needs. Spock was aware of this fact, although he was unsure of its exact components. Would he be able to provide adequately for these needs? What was it that Jim would require from him, and would a Vulcan-human hybrid with no history of successful emotional interaction be an adequate partner for this dynamic friend?

For a frozen moment in time, Spock felt the chill of desires thwarted sink into his soul. The imagined rejection, even worse, the imagined failure to establish a successful intimate relationship when they both wanted one became very real. It was possible. He turned his head further into the pillow in his psychic pain.

The self-castigation did not last long. It was illogical to dwell only on the negative. To speculate only on a possible disappointment precluded a success that it was entirely possible Jim desired as much as he did. The remembered warmth of Jim’s arms around him reasserted itself. That was truth. That had really happened. A warm glow returned to Spook’s body, and he relaxed back against the bed.

Again, the image of the two of them embracing filled his inner vision, and he felt the phantom touch of warmth around his back. And again, he made an instinctive move to suppress his imaginings. It was done almost without thought, as Spock had done hundreds of times before when confronted with a budding physical sensation that intruded on the Vulcan self-image he had tried for years to build. But now…now the controls that had been his life line only hindered.

His recent distractions suddenly became clear. He had been suppressing thoughts of Jim for six days, and for six days his inner desires and his instinctive control over his thoughts and emotions had been at war. The battle had made him even more uneasy in this uncomfortable command situation than he would have been. It had impaired his performance and caused thoughts of his…friend to intrude at most inappropriate times.

Such a situation could not be allowed to continue. The safety of the ship required his full attention to his command duties. It would be most logical to resolve this conflict.

Slowly Spock opened his eyes and brought his arm down from where it rested on the pillow. He clasped his hands together lightly on his stomach and stared up at the ceiling. The choice was clear. Reinstate his controls past the possibility of weakening, or…make the deliberate decision to drop them. Allow thoughts of his friend to linger in his mind, make such thoughts a part of him, and hold himself emotionally open to wherever their relationship took them. And once Jim had returned, allow himself to respond to him

There was no question what he wanted to do. But could he? It was an almost frightening prospect, laying himself bare to the sensuous, to a physicality that he had ruthlessly denied. To let himself experience all the emotions that already rested in his heart, and to allow Jim to inspire more.

Spock drew in a deep breath and wondered what he would become. It was almost as if there were another person standing in the shadows of his soul, waiting. What was he without the shields that had guarded him for so long?

And then Spock remembered how it had been lately, how his body was already perceiving even ordinary experiences in a new way, how his captain had become so…important…to him. It seemed his controls were already tattered. Jim had breached them, and Spock had not even been aware.

It was a new image. Jim beyond, within, his own Vulcan controls. It was an intimacy that was suddenly even more appealing and arousing than the most physical vision Spock had allowed himself. To have Jim within his mind, to meld with him and show him all that he inspired…. To release the controls to give Jim access to what was within, and to fold those controls back around him in loving embrace.

Was it possible? To maintain his own psychic integrity, and yet release the inner longings for companionship, for physical closeness, even for emotional gratification?

It must be possible. It would be done. Spock would not place barriers in the way of what was happening between them. He would step into the unknown. He would attempt to respond wholeheartedly, physically and emotionally, for any other response would make an intimate relationship between them impossible. And perhaps, with Jim, he could experience the intimate entwining of mind and body that was the hallmark of Vulcan sexuality.

Spock released a pent-up breath and realized his body had stiffened with his contemplations. Consciously, he relaxed the muscles that had tensed, opened the fingers that had curled into fists. And he allowed his mind to settle back over thoughts of Jim.

There were just eight days until they returned to Starbase Eleven. Then the incomparable wonder of their friendship could be resumed. Jim would smile at him, in the way only Jim had ever smiled. Jim would make a teasing remark and turn to look at him with that wicked glint of amusement in his eyes. And they would consult together over the functioning of the ship, sharing within their mutual interest the fabric of their lives.

Eight days. With eleven thousand, five hundred and twenty minutes like any other eight days, but his current subjective experience of them made them loom like an eternity.

He missed Jim.


	7. Chapter 7

Kirk emerged from the shop and stood outside it, momentarily uncertain which way to go. The underground multi-levels of the huge station could occasionally be confusing…. After a few seconds, his internal sense of direction coincided with the map he’d memorized. He started off briskly to the restaurant he’d resolved to visit tonight, his last night on the starbase before the _Enterprise_ returned.

Kirk gripped the package under his arm more tightly. He hadn’t been able to resist when he’d passed the shop advertising _Musical Instruments from Across the Galaxy._ Spock could always use strings for his lyre, and if the newest recording from Vulcan’s foremost string musician had just happened to catch his eye…. He knew the small tokens would please his friend; he could just imagine the shy smile that would appear in the brown eyes, and perhaps they would help Kirk express what he’d been puzzling over on and off for the last week. How to let Spock know, without emotional fuss and wild declarations, about his newly acknowledged feelings. He couldn’t exactly clap Spock on the back and tell him, “I had the most interesting experience at _The Dragon_ last week, Mr. Spock. Let me tell you about it.”

Kirk chuckled to himself as he deftly sidestepped onto a swiftly moving pedestrian slideway that would take him to the restaurant. Maybe lyre strings and a tape wouldn’t say exactly what Kirk couldn’t yet find the words for himself, but at least they would let Spock know his captain had been thinking specifically of him during their two week separation.

The restaurant was already agreeably full with a congenial crowd. Kirk eased up onto a stool by the bar to wait to be called for seating. His muscles were pleasantly relaxed from the massage he’d had after his workout in the gym, and his mind was more than willing to blank out during dinner. Those early evening workouts had become practically his only release from the intense sessions of the Mid-Mission Review. Kirk shook his head over his drink. There wasn’t much the review board hadn’t covered. All his extensive knowledge of the _Enterprise_ and her personnel had been called upon, his ship’s contacts with new civilizations had been critiqued, not always kindly, and his opinions had been sought for ways to improve procedures and equipment. The debriefing was at least as intensive as the psychological probing he’d undergone at the base hospital before his recertification, but the subject was infinitely more interesting.

Nothing could be more interesting to Captain James T. Kirk than the _Enterprise_ , and he had happily spent the long days discussing her past and present. What concerned him most, though, was her future. Admiral N’Kara, head of the review board, was being carefully reticent about plans for the ship, and Kirk could only assume that some major change was in the offing. Perhaps he would be told tomorrow in the morning session designed to summarize what they’d discussed, or maybe the admiral would wait to spring it until the week-long inspection cruise he’d take with the ship to Starbase Fifteen. Kirk was consumed with curiosity, he knew something was up, but he also knew there was no way to force the admiral’s hand. He must be content to sit back and wait, an occupation he was singularly ill-equipped for, and something he felt he was doing entirely too much of on Starbase Eleven.

Kirk heard his name called and turned to follow the hostess, drink in hand and package tucked under one arm, when a too-familiar voice said, “Captain Kirk. I didn’t expect to find you here.”

Kirk turned to find the craggy mahogany face of Admiral George N’Kara. Startlingly, the admiral was smiling toothily at him, an expression Kirk had never seen before on the usually solemn face. N’Kara was standing directly in his path and seemed genuinely pleased to see him. Kirk felt his quiet evening slip away.

Kirk inclined his head and extended a hand and what he hoped was a pleasant smile. “Admiral. Good to see you, sir.”

The admiral shook his hand twice hard, then stepped back and said, “This is quite a coincidence. Are you joining anyone for dinner?”

The invitation was unmistakable, and from the growing gleam in N’Kara’s eye, Kirk could see their dinner would not be purely social. Kirk could actually see the admiral plotting to take advantage of this unexpected time with the captain of the _Enterprise_. They hadn’t interacted in a social way at all since N’Kara’s arrival on the starbase. Kirk had always been anxious to head for the gym to relieve the pressures of the day, and the admiral had seemed content to retreat with his aides. They had spoken casually once at a Starfleet reception more than a year ago, and Kirk had come away from that encounter with a positive impression of the older man. Perhaps this is what they needed to cement a relationship that would extend for several more days while the admiral conducted the ship-wide inspection. And maybe now Kirk could find out what the future held for his ship.

“No, sir, I was doing a solo tonight. Would you care to join me?”

“That would be fine, just fine. Lead on, lovely lady.” This last was addressed to the hostess who had been patiently waiting during their exchange. N’Kara took a moment to wave two of his aides towards the bar. Apparently they were not invited.

Kirk and the Admiral spoke generally, keeping the conversation light until they had punched in their orders to the table comp. Then N’Kara leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers, obviously marshalling his thoughts. Here it comes, Kirk told himself, but instead of a solemn announcement of some kind, N’Kara surprised him. “Tell me a bit more about how your crew interacts.”

The question was too general and left Kirk feeling confused. What was the admiral getting at? “You’ve seen my report, sir. We’re successful because of discipline and training, and cohesion among the officers. Success seems to thrive along with a congenial atmosphere, at least on board the _Enterprise_.” He was summarizing what had been discussed in detail before. “You have seen my recommendation that more attention be paid to psychological compatibility?” N’Kara nodded, smiling that toothy smile again and somehow managing to look crafty in the process. “I think it’s just a lucky accident that the _Enterprise_ crew functions so well together; staffing a starship that can be out of touch for months at a time is vital, and we need to pay more attention to it.” He and Spock had labored over that particular report in the week after the incident with Janice. Kirk had keenly felt the silent support of his crew, and therefore felt strongly about his recommendation.

“Yes, I agree with you there. But could you be more specific? For example, how does the crew react to serving with Commander Spock?”

Kirk looked intently at N’Kara, but the admiral still presented the same smiling face. What was going on? Was this question directed to Spock and his capabilities, or to the crew? The admiral knew about the incidents with the TNT. Could this line of questioning have something to do with that?

“My crew reacts to Commander Spock exactly as they do to any other of my officers, with obedience and respect.” He hadn’t intended for his words to be so hard, but the instinct to defend Spock was a strong one. He tried to relax. “Probably, with a great deal of awe as well, since everyone knows how smart he is. And many of them take classes that he teaches when he can, so quite a few of our younger officers have a teacher-pupil relationship with Mr. Spock. He is undoubtedly the best teacher on board ship, as well as the most demanding.”

N’Kara still seemed to be dissatisfied with his answer, still trying to pull something, Kirk had no idea what, from him.

“But you don’t perceive a problem with the crew, especially, working under a…non-human, a Vulcan?”

Kirk sensed they were finally coming to the heart of the matter. “Of course not, they wouldn’t be on my ship long if there were a problem.” Stiles had not lasted. “I won’t tolerate any expressions of prejudice, let alone ones that affect the working of the ship.” Kirk decided to take the bull by the horns. “But we’re a happy ship, Admiral, to use an old phrase. Why these questions? Do you have a report to the contrary? Are you concerned about the TNT incident?”

N’Kara waved the questions aside. “No, no, Jim, the _Enterprise_ is a tightly run ship, I know that. No one can argue with your successful record. That’s why…” the admiral paused, and made a big production out of taking a sip from his drink. Kirk tensed and tried to look more casual than he felt. What had the admiral been about to say?

N’Kara shifted gears smoothly and backed away from his almost-revelation. “How do you get along with Commander Spock? Do you think his being non-human interferes in any way with your functioning as a command team?”

Kirk tried to sidestep the question. His recent thoughts about Spock made him quite reluctant to answer it; he feared he would reveal too much. “I would think that my psychological profile would speak for me on that, Admiral, and as you’ve said, you can’t argue with success.”

N’Kara placed both hands flat on the table. “Yes, but I want to hear your thoughts on the subject.” His voice was mild.

“My thoughts on the _Enterprise’s_ command team? All right.” Kirk briefly, wildly, thought of bringing out the parcel that now rested under the table and explaining to the admiral that he and Spock were friends. But it wasn’t what the man wanted to hear, and it wasn’t the real answer to the question either. “Spock and I are an exceptional command team partly because he is Vulcan. His perceptions and intuition are not human, and yet they complement my own. I see events better, more fully through the eyes of my alien first officer, who has a different cultural background than I do. His intellect and scientific knowledge which are so valuable to the ship are peculiarly Vulcan. The _Enterprise_ wouldn’t possibly be what she is without a Vulcan as second-in-command.” There, was that what the old man wanted?

Apparently it was. If anything, N’Kara beamed an even wider smile than before, and it looked even more incongruous on his dark, lined face.

“I couldn’t agree with you more. Jim. And I am not the only one who does. Most of the upper echelons of Starfleet Command would say so, too. Of course, some of their response is from pressure placed on us by the Federation Council.” N’Kara’s discourse was interrupted by the arrival of their dinners, and Kirk cursed the timing. N’Kara was finally really talking, not just asking questions. He felt sure his role and the _Enterprise’s_ would come next. The admiral carefully placed a napkin on his lap, and resumed his monologue to a fascinated audience of one.

“You and Commander Spock are the only combination of human and non-human in a starship command team we have, although there are also a few others on our smaller vessels. At first the problem was that there just weren’t many non-humans in the service. Commander Spock was one of the very first, and one of the very few. But now there are competent non-human Starfleet members available in all areas. It’s time, don’t you think, to use their talents?” At Kirk’s mute nod, the admiral paused to sample the plate before him. “Good linguini. What’s that you’ve got there?”

Kirk glanced at his untouched plate. “Uh, timbali weed. It’s a specialty here. Admiral,” Kirk paused to gather his thoughts. “Where does the _Enterprise_ fit in? And why did you mention the Federation Council? And,” he glanced about the crowded dining room, “don’t you think we should discuss this tomorrow, under security?”

N’Kara chuckled, and helped himself to a chunk of bread. Kirk wordlessly passed him the butter. “You must really think me a daft old man, eh? Well, I’m not, and we’re not talking about anything that isn’t already in the public domain and will be front page news tomorrow. I can talk about this with you because of the Federation Council. I know you young starship captains don’t have the time to follow galactic politics, but we old desk jockeys have almost nothing else to do. The council has been increasingly vocal about the dominance of Starfleet by humans, and by human policies. More than one speech has been made about the suppression of rights and opportunities, not to mention the violence we often seem to get entangled with. Of course,” N’Kara’s voice turned reflective, “they’re right, in a way. A combination of circumstance, human arrogance, and old-fashioned prejudice were at work thirty years ago when non-humans should have been recruited actively into Starfleet, but weren’t. Your Commander Spock was one of the first, and that was….”

“Nineteen years ago,” Kirk supplied.

“Right, and I understand very few Vulcans have followed him to the service, except for that batch that were on the _Intrepid_. That was a good idea, an experiment, but not within the Starfleet norm. The Vulcan philosophy of peace, and their perception of us as an arm of violence has prevented their active participation.” He paused to pay attention to the food before him.

Kirk prompted, “But Spock has always appreciated the scientific opportunities the service offers. And he knows from experience that Starfleet intends to protect the peace, not violate it. We aren’t deliberately aggressive.”

“Right,” N’Kara mumbled around a mouthful of food, and he pointed a buttery knife at him. He swallowed. “And as that message is finally getting through, there’s more Federation members who want greater participation at higher levels in Starfleet. That, in turn, will probably lead to a greater emphasis on our exploration and discovery function, although of course our responsibility to protect our peoples with armaments will never disappear, not until the Klingons, Romulans, and Orions do. Not to mention assorted other unfriendlies like the Tholians you tangled with. There’s no secret that the council has become more conciliatory, even pacifistic, some would say, with the rise of the non-human element. And Vulcan’s influence is growing.”

He once again addressed his plate with vigor, and Kirk kept his impatience in check while allowing the admiral to eat in peace. But finally he could contain himself no longer. “Admiral, you didn’t tell me all this for a civics lesson. How will this affect the _Enterprise_?”

N’Kara smiled at him gently, and carefully patted his lips with his napkin. “Best meal I’ve had since I got here. We’ll have to come back for lunch.” His eyes were laughing at the discomfited man before him, and he finally took pity on Kirk. “All right, Captain, here it is.” N’Kara’s elbows were on the table, and he leaned in towards Kirk. His expression was suddenly serious. “The _Enterprise_ being due for its Mid-Mission Review fits in nicely with our plans. Yours is the crew most used to dealing with non-humans, due to Commander Spock being in a command position. And this psych review you just went through confirmed that you were the captain we wanted for the job. You’re due for Mid-Mission replacements, additions, and transfers anyway. Just expect the vast majority of your new officers and crew to be nonhuman. Andorians, Rigellians, Vegans, Belurians, even a few Vulcans will be in this first batch of about fifty. We’re aiming for high visibility, and we’ll be keeping a close watch on you to see how they integrate, but we’re not expecting any problems. You see, we anticipated your recommendation about psychological compatibility, and everyone’s been carefully hand-picked and screened. They are being assembled at Starbase Fifteen, and you can pick them up at the end of the inspection cruise. Think you can handle it?” The admiral sat back, well satisfied with his delivery.

The slow smile which so many had found intriguing was playing now across Kirk’s lips, and he made no effort to hide it or the sparkle in his eye. “This is one time,” he drew in a breath, remembering M-5, “when I don’t mind playing the guinea pig. This has been coming a long time, due for a long time. We can handle it. Give me two or three months and no one will ever know the _Enterprise_ wasn’t always an integrated ship.”

N’Kara nodded approvingly. “That’s what we want, why we picked you and your ship. No special treatment, no surprises, just regular Starfleet for everyone involved. You might be in a fishbowl at first, the press will probably plague you, but that will die down as soon as we bring other ships on line with the program.”

Kirk understood. He’d never planned to be a media celebrity, but he’d occasionally found his starship captain status made it unavoidable. He had learned how to handle the galactic press corps and could murmur “no comment” from much practice.

N’Kara continued, “We’ve called a press conference for early tomorrow afternoon. The _Enterprise_ will be in orbit in the morning, so you, Commander Spock, and whoever you use for civilian relations can all be there for the press. We’ll cut our morning MMR session short to give you time to visit your ship and brief your officers. And I presume you’ll want to be briefed on the _Enterprise’s_ recent activities as well.”

“Of course,” Kirk replied automatically. He didn’t think it would be possible to be briefed thoroughly enough about his ship’s past two weeks. Even with tapes, logs, and verbal confirmation, he would still feel as if he were missing fourteen days from his own life.

N’Kara was continuing, “And after a day or two for me to tie up some loose ends here, we can start our inspection tour to Starbase Fifteen. If you don’t have any more questions, Captain, that can’t wait until tomorrow, let’s call it a night. We old codgers leave the nightlife to the young.” The admiral rose and punched in his code on the table comp, explaining, “I’ll get the check,” as he did so. “Good night, Captain.”

 

****

 

“Bones!” Kirk bounded off the transporter pad, and headed for the figure standing in front of the console. He grabbed his chief medical officer’s outstretched hand and thumped him soundly on the back in exuberant greeting.

“Jim, it’s good to have you back.” McCoy beamed, matching Kirk’s unabashed grin and thoroughly shaking the captain’s hand. “I knew those planet-bound shrinks would see the light.” Kirk laughed at the doctor, then turned to Scotty, who had moved out from behind the console to stand next to McCoy.

“Aye,” the engineer said as they shook hands, “pleased we are to have you back, sir.” Scotty’s expression left no doubt that what he said was true. “You’ll find the _Enterprise_ in fine shape. Mr. Spock has her all ready for inspection.”

Kirk turned to the third, silent member of his welcoming committee, who had been standing off to one side. He took a few steps to stand directly in front of Spock. Until this moment he had not known what he was going to say in greeting, this first time. Their farewell had been so unusual, the events on the starbase so revealing. Even so Kirk had no desire to play a scene in front of others, and he was sure Spock’s deeply-felt need for privacy would not allow one. But Spock was standing at ease in front of him, his head up, that special smile lurking in his eyes, not attempting to hide the open welcome that was there. Kirk found himself wanting to ask only one thing, the question that would tell him all he really wanted to know about Spock the past two weeks.

“Did you?” Kirk demanded out loud, curling his hands into fists by his side and leaning forward in his typical aggressive stance, all of it belied by the smile on his face and the warmth he could not stop from reaching his eyes.

As always, from the very first weeks of their meeting, Spock was in tune with him. There was no need to elaborate or explain, not between the two of them. In his friend’s softened gaze, and in the bobbing Adam’s apple as Spock swallowed, Kirk saw the question trigger the memory of their last whispered words: _I will miss you._ Kirk had begun looking for such subtle signs from the Vulcan in the very early days when he was still struggling to understand his alien first officer, and now he interpreted them from long habit and with ease. He saw the answer he wanted before it sounded forthrightly in the quiet transporter room air.

“Yes, I did.” Spock’s quiet declaration, proclaimed without hesitation and before two other senior officers who were wondering what was going on, filled Kirk’s heart until he felt he was choking. He grinned back at Spock until he thought his face would split. His unemotional Vulcan. Nobody else might know what Spock was saying, but he had never made a more emotional declaration in his life, and Kirk knew it. He had never been so happy to be missed, or to hear those three words spoken in the smooth baritone. Spock’s lifted eyebrow at his captain’s apparently barely checked glee was matched by a slight curve at the comers of his mouth. It was the Vulcan equivalent of Kirk’s own emotional display, and it demanded a response.

“I did too, damnit,” Kirk said loudly through his smile, then quickly turned with arms spread wide to embrace the entire transporter room. “God, it’s good to be back.” His arms dropped and he slowly turned to face the other three men, working hard to fight his happiness down to manageable levels. He had no desire to appear ridiculous. “That had to be the longest two weeks of my life. My brain is totally picked over.” He looked back to Spock again, feeling in control enough once more and anxious to be reassured about the ship. “I heard you had some trouble with the Orions.”

“Nothin’ ol’ Spock here couldn’t handle, Cap’n,” McCoy interjected in his best drawl, leaning back against the console and crossing his arms. “Got so I ignored the red alerts. Just borin’ when the Orions picked up and high-tailed it off when they heard the _Enterprise_ was in town.”

Kirk could just imagine what the words implied. McCoy’s mother-henning on the bridge was occasionally too much even for him.

He jerked a thumb in McCoy’s direction and addressed his first officer. “This fellow give you any trouble? Did you have to forcibly shut him up?”

Spock fell easily into their familiar pattern of banter. He sighed loudly and placed his hands behind his back. “The doctor’s emotional displays were indeed taxing, but the ship continued its smooth operation despite his occasional unnecessary presence on the bridge.”

McCoy’s outraged expression came right on cue and completed Kirk’s feeling of finally being home. Scotty laughed, and then called over the intercom for a replacement in the transporter room. He stepped up to Kirk and said, “We thought you’d want to be briefed right away, sir, so briefing room two is ready.”

“Good, Scotty, I’ll join you there after I check in on the bridge. You’ll all need to be briefed on our latest mission to Starbase Fifteen, too. Call Lieutenant Wright in on this, will you, Scotty? We’ll need him this afternoon for a press conference. Coming, Spock?” Kirk collected him with a glance, and the two passed from the room with the captain, as always, a half stride ahead. McCoy turned to the engineer and inquired, “Now what the hell was that all about?”

Scott did not pretend to misunderstand him. He too had been puzzled by his senior officers’ exchange. The engineer shrugged his shoulders and went back to the transporter to beam up the captain’s luggage. “I donna know, Doctor. Perhaps they had a wager of some sort?”

McCoy snorted in derision. “Right, a wager. Spook’s never bet on anything in his life.” He shook his head and stared at the materializing suitcase. “Those two. I can never keep up with them. I wonder what they’ll come up with next?”

 

*****

 

Kirk had a strange feeling of deja vu as McCoy sat in the chair behind his desk, feet up, watching him unpack. He paused in the process of shaking out a uniform tunic and asked with a smile, “I get the strangest feeling we’ve done this all before, Bones.”

“What? Oh, huh. You mean about two weeks ago. But I like homecomings better than good-byes.” McCoy put his hands over his head and stretched mightily. Kirk could hear his spine creak. “Boy, I could use a break. Right now, liberty sounds mighty good to me.” Admiral N’Kara, for reasons of his own, had delayed their departure for Starbase Fifteen, and Kirk had given all off-duty personnel liberty to visit the starbase below. McCoy would beam down soon. Now he looked at Kirk and said, “You looked mighty good at the press conference this afternoon. Something in the air down there must agree with you.”

Kirk had handled the press with more than his usual aplomb, fielding questions with charm and a disarming air, making everyone present laugh a few times, and thoroughly living up to his reputation. McCoy did not connect the captain’s performance with the first officer standing at his side, although he did have the stray thought that it was good to see the two of them together again.

Spock was obviously meant to represent the nonhuman members of Starfleet, and it was unlikely that he felt very comfortable in that role. Yet he too had appeared to McCoy to be remarkably at ease with the situation, causing the doctor now to comment, “Even Spock wowed those reporters, with not a ‘logical’ or a ‘fascinating’ to be heard. And you’d think he was used to getting his picture taken.” There had been obligatory shots of admiral, captain, and first officer, with civilian liaison Lieutenant Wright carefully directing the proceedings. McCoy went on, “‘Course, I’m surprised that stone face he put on didn’t break the cameras.” The doctor yawned and stretched again.

Kirk pulled a face at McCoy’s comments. “What did you want him to do, smile?”

McCoy chuckled. “Yeah, that would be a sight, wouldn’t it? I can see the headlines now.” McCoy contemplated for a moment, then asked, “That reminds me, what was all that between you two in the transporter room this morning?” When McCoy had an itch, he liked to scratch. He’d been itching now for hours. He looked hopefully at the captain.

Kirk turned abruptly into his closet, trying to hide his laughter, and alarm. McCoy was so damn perceptive where he was concerned, and had practically made a hobby out of observing Spock. But there were limits to what he could discuss, even with Bones.

“That?” his muffled voice returned. “Oh, just a little conversation we had before I left.” He emerged, his color a little heightened but straight-faced. He hastened to change the subject. “Where are you going tonight?”

McCoy was disappointed, but not really surprised he’d not gotten a straight answer from Kirk. But he could be patient when he needed to be.

“Oh, I don’t know. Thought maybe I’d have dinner, catch a show, maybe look up a lady.” He snickered. “Maybe I should put that in reverse order. Ladies should always come first.”

Kirk laughed, too, then with a curious look asked, “Where at? Think you’ll to _The Dragon_?”

McCoy nodded. “Yeah, since I’ll be here one night I thought I could spring for something expensive, and _The Dragon’s_ always been the best. Why, you got some recommendations?”

Kirk looked acutely self-conscious, which puzzled McCoy. They had shared several shore leaves together, and while they each preferred to indulge in their sexual escapades in private, they had never been shy with the stories later. Yet Kirk seemed hesitant when he said, “Not exactly a recommendation, Bones. But if you happen to meet a lady named Sandra, tall, thin, dark-haired, gill slits on her neck,” Kirk’s fingers quickly illustrated, “would you give her a message for me?”

McCoy carefully dropped one foot at a time to the floor and leaned forward. Jim’s voice was serious.

“Sure, Jim, what should I say?”

Kirk drew in a deep breath and stood stock still in the middle of the room. “Tell her, tell her….” His mind cast about for a suitable metaphor to use to disguise the meaning of his message of hope from Bones, but he drew a blank. “Oh, hell, Bones, just tell her I said hello.”

“Sure thing, Jim.” McCoy’s voice was carefully non-committal, then gentle. “She a special lady to you?”

Kirk grinned wryly to himself and turned to fully face the doctor. “You wouldn’t believe how special she is, Bones, but not the way you think. Really,” at McCoy’s skeptical look, “just a hell of a terrific person, and I hope, a friend.” 

He turned back to his unpacking, and McCoy leaned back in the chair. One more mystery to add to the stack he’d been accumulating lately. But the conversation had established one thing for sure. No way he would pass up _The Dragon_ tonight.

They whiled a few more minutes away in idle talk, then McCoy rose to leave. He was halfway to the door when the buzzer sounded, and was unsurprised to see Spock standing in the doorway when Kirk called out,

“Come.”

“I’ll see you later, Jim,” he said, and nodded to Spock as he left.

Kirk couldn’t hide the happiness in his voice when he said, “Come on in, Spock,” and motioned to his friend to enter. Spock stood silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, hesitating uncharacteristically before moving forward. He was not wearing his uniform, but rather a handsome casual outfit Kirk had never seen before. Spock so seldom unbent enough to wear civilian clothing that his appearance was a distinct novelty.

Kirk stared, momentarily taken back and not knowing how to react. From his experience with Sandra, he had half-feared that a moment like this between them would be fraught with sexual tension, would be filled with physical attraction. But although Spock looked good in the black slacks, white shirt and black pullover sweater patterned with abstract silver designs, Kirk felt no such stirrings. He felt warmth, yes, pleasure at the sight of his friend relaxed, happiness that Spock had dropped in unexpectedly, but no overwhelming sudden urges. He was relieved. He had worried on the starbase that now he might only see Spock sexually. But the basis of their friendship was very strong, and Kirk realized that he was attracted to all of Spock, all that he was, and that the physical component that had recently surfaced was a final expression of the attraction of their spirits. That bridge between them was very wide, he thought happily, built up from so much over the years, and they would have plenty of time to meet in the middle.

Kirk’s contemplation had taken but a moment, and he continued his forward motion towards Spock to urge him into the cabin. He reached out and grasped one bony shoulder to shake it gently, thinking as he did that maybe he did have a few physical reactions. At least the urge to touch his friend was certainly there.

“Spock, you look good,” he said truthfully, meaning it, and not finding any other words. “Where are you going?” It was very unlikely that Spock had donned such unusual clothing just for a stroll about the ship.

“I thought civilian attire would be suitable for a visit to the starbase.”

Kirk threw him a questioning look that said, “Oh?” and turned back to finish his unpacking. What would the business-like Vulcan do on the starbase? “Are you taking liberty there tonight?”

“Yes,” the smooth voice stated. “We were able to receive our backlogged mail when we entered orbit. I have received a communication from my cousin T’Lin, informing me of her bonding, and I would like to purchase a gift for her to commemorate that event. As you have spent several days on the base, perhaps you would care to accompany me and guide me to the appropriate shops. I would benefit from your experience and appreciate your company.”

Kirk made no effort whatsoever to hide his delighted reaction to the invitation. “That sounds wonderful, Spock,” he said sincerely. “I’d like that very much.

“And afterwards,” he closed the empty suitcase with a snap, “how about dinner together? There’s a restaurant on the surface level that I think you would enjoy. I never got to it myself, but it comes highly recommended.” He looked up hopefully.

Spock was inclining his head. “That would be most agreeable. Am I suitably attired for the restaurant, or does it require more formal garb?”

Kirk openly surveyed his friend once more. He found it was singularly easy to do. “No, Spock, what you have on is just fine. You look good. Besides,” he turned to his own closet and started searching through the clothing hanging there, “if anything you’re overdressed. My impression was that this place was casual. I think I’ll just wear this,” and he pulled out a dark blue pair of slacks and a crisp, light blue button-down shirt, and headed for the bathroom.

He emerged just a moment later, hands empty, and went to retrieve a package from the items still lying on his bed. “Here,” he called, “this is for you,” and he threw it across the room. Spock easily caught it in one hand, and curiously turned it over, his eyes questioning.

“Open it,” his captain commanded, and Spock obligingly did. He had no time to comment on what was within before Kirk ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed, said, “I thought you might like those,” and headed for the bathroom again. “I’ll just be a minute. Have a seat.” He missed the gentle smile he had imagined the day before.

 

*****

 

“The base appears to be quite crowded. Is it always so?” Spock inquired as they strode towards the pedestrian slideway that would take them to the shops on level three.

“Yeah, it’s their weekend here, and there’s always something going on,” Kirk replied, then scanned for an open place on the slideway big enough for the two of them. He spotted one coming up, reached back to grasp Spook’s upper arm, and pulled him forward onto the slide. They wound up facing each other with a support pole between them, crowded in by other travelers. It was the closest they had been. Kirk could see the tiny crinkly lines around the brown eyes, and idly wondered why they were there since Spock so seldom smiled. Then those lines deepened, and Spock, his face so close, smiled at Kirk now with his eyes. Right. How could he have missed that?

They made the short journey in silence, spending it holding on to the pole for support, and occasionally exchanging glances. The presence of so many other beings inhibited their conversation; Kirk knew Spock was always acutely uncomfortable whenever touch could not be avoided, as on their current crowded conveyance. The Vulcan form of telepathy was activated by touch, or very close proximity, and Spock was concentrating on maintaining his shields.

When they reached their destination and were walking along a row of exclusive shops, Spock once more seemed completely relaxed. This area of the base resembled an enclosed mall, with high ceilings, simulated sunlight, and lots of the green trees the base doctors insisted on for their recovering patients. It was light, cheerful, and airy, and the setting added to their already relaxed mood.

Kirk paused before a stand of trees, out of the stream of steady pedestrian traffic, and rubbed his hands together in a familiar gesture. “Now, what exactly are we looking for?”

“A bonding present for my cousin T’Lin. As you humans say, ‘I will know it when I see it.’” When Spock’s humor-tinged voice created the incredulous expression he had hoped for, he continued, “A bonding gift is quite untraditional, Captain. Usually no such token is expected or extended.” They started to stroll along the mall again. “However, the relationship between my cousin and myself is an unusual one. You must know that T’Lin was an unusual and precocious child, out-spoken and opinionated. She found it much more difficult to conform to Vulcan norms than I did. She even made no secret of her disapproval of my bonding, and as you know, she was ultimately proven correct in her assessment of my bondmate.” Spock stole a sidelong glance at his captain, who was frowning at the mention of T’Pring.

“Nevertheless, T’Lin and I shared much during my years on Vulcan, as much as I could share at that time with anyone. We saw one another often and were classmates for a time as well. I especially recall one trip our families took together when I was ten years of age.”

Kirk was listening hard to every word, and trying not to show his intense interest too obviously. Spock so seldom spoke of his days before Starfleet.

Spock was saying, “Clan responsibilities took us all to a gathering that required the attendance of adults far into the night, and T’Lin and I conversed together for most of that time.” He turned to Kirk as they walked and felt compelled to explain further when he saw the questioning look on the captain’s face. “It is a simple thing to you, a conversation between peers. But to Vulcans, to me,” Kirk knew Spock was referring to his half-breed status, “it was an unusual occurrence. So much so that I thought of that night often, and honored T’Lin the more for her acceptance of my differences.”

Kirk felt a sharp pang of sorrow. That his friend’s childhood should have been so barren that simple childhood confidences could have meant so much. He couldn’t help but contrast it with the easy way he had grown up with his brother Sam, and the countless nights they had stayed up talking of their futures. He was honored that Spock should confide in him, speak of his childhood as he had never done before. He didn’t want it to end.

“And after that, you were friends?”

Spock nodded. “Yes, as much as time and proximity would permit. My studies took me in another direction than T’Lin’s, so we did not see one another often as adolescents. But her independence, her different way of looking at the universe, always fascinated me. I am sure that she had much influence on my decision to enter Starfleet.”

They walked along in silence for a while, Kirk assimilating these new details that had formed his friend, then he asked, “You said this is a bonding gift. Wasn’t your cousin bonded at age seven like you were?” Kirk wasn’t even sure if such a question were proper. There was so much he didn’t know about Vulcan society, customs, and norms.

Spock seemed perfectly willing to answer. “No, she was not. It was recognized that her iconoclastic nature could not easily find a suitably compatible mental match among her peers. But as she is female, this presented no danger, and she was permitted to remain unbonded. It is not too unusual.”

“Now T’Lin has found her ‘mental match’?”

“Yes, and I rejoice with her. I had thought she would remain in her unbonded state indefinitely, but apparently she and T’Shar have made a strong bond between them. This is always preferable to remaining alone, even for females who do not face biological necessity. You must understand, Jim, that among my people it is the compatibility of minds that is paramount in a bond. All other considerations fade before this all-important need. A Vulcan joining is more encompassing then any human marriage could be simply because of my people’s telepathic nature. We crave the intimacy of minds in harmony, as well as experiencing the imperative of the body.”

Spock wondered where he had found the resolution to speak of this to Jim, but he was too intent on his narrative to stop and re-examine his motives. “It is true that not all bondings are successful, not all find the mental harmony that is the ideal, but it is always that which is desired before all else. I am pleased that T’Lin has finally found her harmony.” Spock subsided, and looked to see how Jim would react to what amounted to an emotional outburst, and a lecture from him as well.

But Kirk seemed to be intent on something he’d said. “You said T’Lin’s bondmate was T’Shar. That’s a woman’s name, isn’t it?” At Spock’s nod, Kirk continued, “So your cousin is bonded to another woman? Vulcans approve of same-sex bondings?” His voice rose with the question.

They had stopped their walking and now stood to one side of the trafficway facing each other. Kirk was staring at his companion intently, one hand coming up to grasp Spock’s upper arm. Spock flushed under the intense regard and lowered his eyes. He suddenly understood Kirk’s reaction, one he had undoubtedly provoked with this strangely personal conversation that had apparently sprung straight from his subconscious. His captain had not known Vulcan’s general attitude towards same-sex relationships. The personal way he was gazing at Spock and the fingers digging deep into his arm told him that Jim was applying the information to their own situation. Spock suddenly felt very anxious to answer.

“Yes, Jim, as I explained, all other considerations, including those of gender, must fade before a compatible mental joining. Such same-sex bondings are certainly not encouraged on my planet, because of our population problem, but none would interfere with the true joining of mind and spirit.” His words sounded strange in his own ears, stiff and formal, as if some unseen judge were pronouncing words that would affect his life. Were those words as important to Jim as they had suddenly become to him?

Kirk was smiling a slow smile, and urging him on with a hand on his elbow to resume their walk. “You know,” he said dreamily, matching his pace to his tone, “I’ve always thought that Vulcans are such sensible people.” Spock’s eyebrow flew up. His commanding officer had never before expressed such an opinion. How could this be a response to the solemn words Spock had just intoned? Kirk had more. “Such nicely logical people.” The other eyebrow joined the first. His captain was teasing him now. But Jim seldom did anything without a reason. He would encourage him.

“We are sensible and logical for acknowledging the reality of what is?” He was anxious to hear Jim’s reply, and folded his hands firmly behind his back to restrain his anticipation.

“No, Vulcans are sensible and logical because they agree so completely with me.” Kirk laughed out loud, and clapped his hands together once.

Spock allowed a skeptical look to cross his face, and said, “Indeed?” but they both knew that inside he was smiling, too.

“So, let’s get cousin T’Lin something unusual, big and expensive, right?” Spock did not question Jim’s sudden appropriation of his relative, but he did feel constrained to point out that galactic postage rates being what they were, a small parcel would perhaps be more logical. Jim objected, and they occupied themselves with friendly wrangling as they examined the merchandise in various shop windows. It was considerably easier to continue their banter than to confront what was suddenly open between them. Jim’s declaration could not be misconstrued, regardless that no names had been mentioned, nor any reason given for his sudden interest in Vulcan sociological phenomena. For his part, Spock gravely examined each item Jim pointed out to him as a potential present, even the patently ridiculous ones such as the bula head with horns his captain indicated with trembling lips. Spock nodded gravely and rejected it on the grounds that the “sharpened protrusions might be difficult to wrap.” His ridiculous response was worth the happy expression it produced in the man at his side.

They continued in this way for some time, neither man making any effort to get down to serious purchasing, enjoying this unusual time together thoroughly. Feelings between them were unspoken, yet their happiness vibrated in the air. Both knew this simple evening was the beginning of something new. Kirk managed to touch Spock’s arm frequently, dragging him from one display to another, and Spock allowed it with aplomb, anticipating Jim’s fingers lingering. At another time, another place, he would have been confused by such apparently random physical contact, perhaps as recently as just a few weeks ago. But his time alone on the _Enterprise_ seemed to have changed him. He felt etched in brilliant light, backlighted by their time apart with white hot fire, his intentions, and yes, feelings, clear and clean before him. It was a satisfying sensation, knowing exactly what he was and wanted. He was cleansed, he suddenly realized, as by an expedition to Vulcan’s Forge, where meditation and the harsh elements worked together to strip a logical soul down to its essential components.

And that, Spock thought with satisfaction, as he glanced at the happy figure beside him, is what their separation had done for him. Revealed the essential role that James Kirk played in his life, and exposed Spock’s own need for his friend.

Eventually, they ran out of windows to examine and turned back to begin some serious selection. Spock led the way unerringly to an art gallery midway down the row, guiding Kirk in that direction with a single finger’s touch on one elbow that was the most daring move he had made yet. Kirk rewarded him with a dazzling smile, and Spock wondered, a bit dizzily, at how they could be seeking a gift for cousin T’Lin and playing such an intense emotional game at the same time. Complex navigational coordinates, N-space intersections with their own four dimensions, and his next chess move, these Spock could calculate in rapid succession with ease at any time. But demands on his mind were one thing, those on his so long-suppressed emotions quite another. He was quite unfamiliar with those he was allowing himself to experience now, and their…savoring…was taking all his attention. That, and returning the affectionate glances his captain was bombarding him with, was quite disrupting his intended concentration on T’Lin’s bonding present.

When Spock could tear his eyes from Kirk’s smile, they found themselves before the gallery Spock had noted during their initial survey.

“Let us examine the objects this gallery has for sale,” Spock said inanely, still feeling off balance, and led the way in.

They parted at the door. Kirk was more than content to wander about the displays, watching Spock from afar as he ran a finger down a rough-hewn object, or stepped back to admire a portrait. Kirk sat down on a bench before a huge landscape of Vega’s famed mountain-towers and pretended to contemplate it. He had no eye for the subtler nuances of art, knew simply what he liked, and occasionally purchased what caught his attention without regard to the eclectic mixture he therefore owned. A method that, he thought, paralleled his personal life now. He’d been picking and choosing from the various women he’d met from around the galaxy, and now he’d settled on someone so unusual that he certainly didn’t fit in with what he’d collected before.

A couple came into Kirk’s view to stand before the landscape. They were holding hands, and Kirk watched as the man’s arm moved to encircle the woman’s waist. She half-turned to snuggle her back against his chest. They held the pose for a few moments, radiating contentment, then shared a quiet kiss before moving on.

Kirk watched the whole tableau with interest, glancing over his shoulder once to try and locate Spock, wanting to connect with him at least by sight because of the feelings the little scene had inspired within him. Spock was nowhere to be seen. He’d be very interested, Kirk realized, in holding Spock like that, even in having Spock hold him like that. He could imagine the contentment he’d find in that embrace, could feel the trust radiating between them, and Spock’s body heat reaching from the Vulcan towards his captain. Kirk knew his daydream had been inspired by his reaction to the couple just leaving the gallery now, and he felt comforted by his libido’s response. He really hadn’t changed, he thought. Women were still beautiful and desirable. Their softness still attracted him. But now their bodies and the pleasure he had found in them were simply not enough. He needed more, needed permanency, a completion of the heart, a companion, and he had all that in his relationship with Spock now. What they had to do was forge a new life for them both, physical, mental, spiritual, combining elements of the lover and the friend. It was a task, he believed, that was already more than half accomplished, given his daydream of standing within the circle of his friend’s arms.

It was possible, Kirk mused, that he could have found what he was looking for in a woman, but before the right one had presented herself, he and Spock had met. As their relationship grew, had he deliberately avoided the right kind of woman for him? He was very aware of his string of love ‘em and leave ‘em affairs, and his own singular lack of regret at each parting. Had he been finding what he really needed in Spock all along, leaving him to assuage only his physical desires with, as Bones had once so delicately put it, blonde bimbos? It was an interesting thought, and Kirk took pleasure in considering Spock’s growing role in his life.

Then Spock was standing before him as if he were indeed the apparition from Kirk’s musings. He gently said, “I believe I may have found what we are looking for. Would you provide your opinion?”

They settled on a delicate crystalline structure from the famous Arcturan artists’ colony. Even Kirk had to admit it was lovely. He suspected Spock had had such an object in mind from the beginning and could have abbreviated their search considerably if he had so desired.

When they arrived at the restaurant on the surface, they discovered that it was not, as Kirk had supposed from its name, located deep in a cave of some sort. Instead, _The Grotto_ was a breathtakingly beautiful example of what nature, enhanced by bioengineering technology, could do to delight the senses.

Huge trees at least eighty feet in height surrounded an outdoor garden, and were dotted throughout the enclosure as well. Multi-colored leaves of light and dark green, brown and orange and yellow arched overhead in a living canopy that whispered in the wind. Among the leaves twinkled an occasional pinprick of white light, not enough to overwhelm, just enough to tantalize. And although the many tables placed at the base of and among the trees were crowded with diners, the outdoor setting took their noise and muted it among the sounds of nature.

Near each group of diners flowered large bushes covered with pink blossoms, and more than one human woman, and a few beings of other races, sat with the flowers entwined in their hair. Flowers, lights and trees, the gentle breeze were everywhere. The effect was breathtaking and very soothing.

The two men stood and gazed at the beauty before themf  
for a few moments before Kirk turned to Spock and whispered, “Wow.”

Spock did not remove his eyes from the living canopy, which granted an occasional glimpse of the gas giant planet orbiting overhead. His face was serene, and the soft lights bouncing back from the life all about him smoothed the rough planes of his angular face. “Indeed,” he said, “I am most pleased to be here tonight,” and his eyes dropped into a gentle smile with his companion’s.

They followed a solitary hostess to a table, and Spock seized the opportunity to inquire, “Is it autumn here, madam, or is this the trees’ natural pigmentation during the growing season?”

Nothing, Kirk thought, as he listened to their discussion, would ever change his friend’s ever present curiosity or his gentle courtesy.

Her explanation of the trees’ life cycle complete, the woman asked pleasantly, “Can I dial an alcoholic beverage for you?”

“A bourbon and water,” Kirk replied.

“The same,” a firm voice supplied. Kirk turned to Spock in surprise. He had very rarely seen his first officer indulge in alcohol. As the hostess punched in their orders and left, Spock offered, “Do you not believe that it is time for me to accustom myself to such human habits?”

Kirk grinned. “Yes, but I don’t think I can handle a drunk Vulcan.”

“Do not concern yourself, I shall not overindulge. And I have already proven myself capable of dealing with intoxicated humans.”

The glasses appeared in the recessed area on the table. The serving mechanism here was similar to those of the food processors on the _Enterprise_.

“I hope the food here is a cut above what we get on the ship,” Kirk commented, and took a sip from his drink. “At least they know the right proportions for a good bourbon and water.”

“The technology here for food preparation and presentation is up-to-date and impressive. I believe we will be subjected to an equally impressive bill to accompany the surroundings.”

Kirk’s first impulse was to say something like, “I’ll pick up the tab” or “The treat’s on me,” which he would have done if his companion had been the typical woman who usually accompanied him on shore leaves. A captain’s salary was almost always more impressive than anyone else’s, and he was a generous man. He checked the impulse. Spock was as generous, as proud as he was; they would have to find a new way between them that did not travel all of Kirk’s well-trodden paths.

His mind strayed to the ship and their upcoming mission. “You haven’t given me your honest reaction to our new assignment. How do you feel about more Vulcans coming on board?” Kirk was asking for more than the “by the book” responses they’d both given at the press conference.

Spock steepled his fingers on the table before him. “As I understand it, our new assignment is basically one of insuring that the crew will operate efficiently with its new additions. I do not anticipate this taking very long, perhaps a few weeks to satisfy us both.” Kirk nodded. In the proper order of things, the first officer would actually have the lion’s share of the nitty-gritty process of evaluation and scheduling. “As to my reaction to others of my race being on the _Enterprise_ ,” Spock actually shrugged, “I do not believe I have any reaction at all. They will be there. That is enough.”

Kirk was curious. “But aren’t you happy that there will be other Vulcans there to interact with, to talk to? I thought you would be pleased.”

“Happy, Jim? Pleased?” Spock’s eyebrow rose in a deliberate gesture. “Surely not. Such a reaction would undoubtedly cause our new recruits to quote me Surak’s precepts on emotional control. And…I do believe my current interactions are requiring all of my attention at this time.” Spock gave his best imitation of a stone face, totally belied by his sparkling eyes.

Kirk choked back his laughter and dropped his eyes to peruse the menu. He was pleased to see the advertised vegetarian fare available for Spock. As he punched in some choices, he said, “Well, I was honestly delighted when N’Kara gave me the news. It’s so long overdue, the situation was getting embarrassing. Preaching harmony and brotherhood to new races we meet, or trying to convince some planet to open diplomatic relations with the Federation, when I was commanding a practically all-human crew. A lousy example.”

He leaned back and stared up at the leafy canopy overhead, seeking the tiny lights among the natural movements. He chose his words with care. “So much has been going on lately. All this business with the TNT on board ship. Having you attacked, for a difference that makes no difference. And after that, the transference with Janice.” He looked down to meet Spock’s understanding eyes. Before Kirk’s session on Starbase Eleven, he hadn’t been able to speak of the incident without pain and bitterness. “Being in her body was a revelation. The old saying, ‘walking in another’s shoes’?” The other nodded, well familiar with the idiom that had always seemed applicable to his own life. “Talk about seeing things from a different perspective. In retrospect, I’m almost glad it happened. Almost. It really opened up my eyes. It seems that everything that’s happened to me lately has been changing my perspective, widening my view. The TNT attacks, Janice’s hatred, this new assignment for the ship,” Kirk’s voice dropped and whispered, “You.”

He looked to see how Spock would react to this most blatant declaration between them. His friend met his gaze shyly but made no effort to hide the warmth that was kindled there, or the fascination he found in Kirk’s hazel depths. The two men sat there for a full minute just staring at each other, in the way of lovers from time immemorial, in a way that was new between them because it now lacked pretense.

Kirk drank in the sight of his friend, trying hard to take in the whole Vulcan face, becoming frustrated as the entire picture he sought became disjointed into eyes, soaring brows, lips and jawline. So he took what he had found and caressed Spock for the first time, with his eyes, lingering over the curve of the ear, the sweep of the eyebrow which was so distinctly Spock, pressing on the thin lips with his sight instead of his own mouth, wanting to know the feeling of those lips in an immediate sexual way that transcended the longing he’d had while in Janice’s body the way the _Enterprise_ transcended space.

There was a great freedom in this exchange of looks, for they knew this time for exactly what it was. The intensity of the moment, the obvious pleasure which they had taken in their evening together, Spock’s offered treasure of confidences, all revealed only truth. Kirk became very aware of Spock’s total concentration upon him, and it awed him. As always, they were together in this. His reticent Vulcan had followed him, even into love. And was Spock as eager as he was to touch, to hold, to love, to make love?

Kirk’s body surged and quickened at the thought, and he had to make a conscious effort to control his arousal. It was all he could do not to reach out for the hand so close to his. He yearned for the physical contact, reassurance, and the sexual excitement of touch. Instead, he sought for some words, at least, that would somehow lock them together in this moment, and bridge the aching emptiness that existed between their two bodies.

But it was Spock who found the words first, for he licked his lips, swallowed audibly, leaned in towards Kirk and barely breathed, “Jim…”

The moment was shattered by a bright flash of light, and a young eager-looking man with a camera approached their table.

“Captain Kirk, Commander Spock? I hope you’ll pardon the intrusion. I’m Ralph Randolph, with the _Galactic News_ team. I attended your press conference this afternoon.”

They all stood and exchanged greetings. If Kirk had any difficulty in shifting from the intimacy of the moment before to his current business-like approach to the reporter, he gave no evidence.

“Hello, Mr. Randolph. Yes, I remember you from this afternoon.” Kirk left his comment at that, hoping to give the man no opening or invitation.

But Randolph was a reporter in search of a story, and would not be deterred. “I was hoping that you two gentlemen would care to comment on the _Enterprise’s_ newest assignment.” He looked expectantly from one to the other.

Captain and first officer exchanged glances. Spock said smoothly, “I believe we have already provided our statements this afternoon.”

“But we both know that was canned. I’m hoping you’ll give me the real story, how you really feel about Starfleet’s new policy, how you intend to train and assign the new non-human crew, the sort of thing that was left unsaid today.”

Kirk looked at Spock again, who was obviously deferring to his captain for this decision. Kirk sighed. He saw no harm in the man’s questions, especially since their honest reactions so closely paralleled the official Starfleet party line. N’Kara had placed no restriction on their contact with the press, had, in fact, encouraged it. Kirk knew that the magic moment with Spock was gone, and it would not be recaptured by turning Randolph away.

Kirk nodded once, and gestured to one of the empty chairs at their table. “Let’s have a seat. We’re just ordering. Would you like to have something?”

So they spent the next hour being interviewed over timbali weed (Kirk insisted that they all try it), Andorian vegetable stew, and salad. By the end of that time, their conversation had turned into a strategy session between captain and first officer, with Randolph an interested observer of the creation of some of the more mundane details of spaceflight. Spock had some decided ideas for the placement of the non-human officers and sketched out a duty rotation for them on Randolph’s reporter’s pad. His plan would give the newcomers initial exposure to all major areas of the ship and place them within an adequate support group of their peers. Randolph sat amazed as Spock outlined workshops, seminars, crew quartering, means of dealing with the specialized needs of the Andorians, and methods of preparing the current _Enterprise_ crew for the change.

The two senior officers agreed on the need for careful coordination among department heads, and Kirk made plans for some social events that might help draw crewmembers together naturally.

As their analysis came to a conclusion, Kirk commented, “The only problem I see with your suggestions, Mr. Spock, is that you are going to be one busy man. Can you see your way clear to handling all this?”

“I agree, Captain, that there will initially be greater demands made upon my time, but I see no other alternative. And the additional workload should diminish within a few weeks.”

Kirk fingered his lip, his eyes sparkling, and pretended to be solemn and concerned. “We will have to find the time for you to relax, Mr. Spock. I won’t have your efficiency impaired because of your excessive dedication to duty.”

“I am sure, Captain,” Spock eyed his superior officer with confidence, “that you will arrive at your usual creative solution to that problem.”

Kirk turned quickly to the reporter to avoid laughing. “I hope we’ve answered all your questions, Mr. Randolph. It’s been a productive session and time well spent.”

Randolph rose with them and shook Kirk’s hand, then nodded to Spock, apparently aware of the Vulcan reluctance to touch. The three left the spectacular restaurant together, parting when Kirk reached for his communicator to give beam-up instructions.

The corridors of the _Enterprise_ were quiet, as the ship was deep into second shift, and many off-duty personnel were visiting the starbase. After checking with the bridge from the transporter room intercom, the two men walked without hurry and in silence from the transporter to the turbolift and down the corridor to officers’ quarters on deck five. They reached Kirk’s door first and paused just short of it to face one another.

Kirk broke the silence first. “This has been an incredible day.”

“Indeed, but…enjoyable.”

“And somewhat unanticipated, I might add.” 

“But not completely.” Spock sounded confident. 

“No, definitely not completely.” A pause. “I hope Cousin T’Lin likes the crystals.”

“I am sure she will appreciate their beauty. I appreciate your help in choosing the gift.”

“It was my pleasure.” They were still fencing, and Kirk felt frustration at their inability to speak plainly after all their unspoken communication this evening. He decided to take the bull by the horns. “Spock, would you like to come in?” He gestured towards the cabin door. Wild visions filled his mind. The two of them kissing passionately, both of them nude together on his bunk, feeling Spock’s long body move against his…. He blinked his eyes, embarrassed at the explicit nature of his thoughts. Had Spock picked up on it?

Spock was staring at him with a strange light in his eyes. Kirk saw hesitation, doubt, and growing resolution chase one another across his face, all of them mingled with the same soft yet intent regard Kirk was growing accustomed to. Spock swallowed hard again, obviously a prelude to a declaration of some sort, and they each took a small step towards the other. Each had one hand braced against the bulkhead, as if for support.

“Perhaps a conversation would be in order.” The deep voice was very low.

“Yes…” Kirk breathed, “we really need to talk.” 

“Agreed.” Neither of them made a move to take the few steps to the captain’s door.

After a few seconds of paralysis, Spock glanced that way over Kirk’s shoulder, raised one eyebrow gently, and said, “Jim….”

The pleasant tones of the second shift communications officer interrupted whatever he had been about to say.” “Bridge to Mister Spock.”

Spook’s features transformed themselves into a first officer’s competent mask, but not without effort. His eyes did not leave his captain’s as he hit the intercom button on the wall between them with the side of his clenched fist.

“Spock here.” His tone had a rough edge to it that apparently even Lieutenant Vitek could detect, for the man paused before relaying, “Sir, Lieutenant Tu is concerned about some readings on the Environmental diagnostics. He asked me to locate you for your assistance.”

Both of them now looked at the intercom grid with concern. There were countless calls for help that Spock could have ignored, postponed, or turned over to more junior officers. Environmental was not one of them. And the implications for an inspection tour that would likely start tomorrow were not pleasant.

“Inform the lieutenant I will be there shortly. Spock out.” He turned towards Kirk. “It seems our conversation will be postponed, Captain,” Spock said as if he were discussing the weather. “I am needed elsewhere.”

Kirk nodded. “Keep me informed. That could be a real problem.”

“Or it could be nothing at all. Logically, I will not be able to determine which until I leave here and examine the situation for myself.” But Spock remained standing where he was.

Kirk grinned at him and took a step back. He made a pushing motion with his hands. “Well, off with you then, scoot. Can’t have my first officer loitering about the halls. Looks bad.”

Spock heaved a long suffering sigh. “Yes, sir.” He walked resolutely down the hall, then turned when he heard his captain’s soft voice call his name.

“Talk later, Spock?” Kirk asked, so softly that the first officer had to strain to hear him over the distance between them.

“Most assuredly,” he intoned, in his best Vulcan manner, then disappeared into the turbo-lift.

Kirk shook his head fondly, then swiftly entered his cabin. He headed directly for his computer screen, where he called up the life support readouts while he slowly undressed. He could see the tell-tale warning signs that Lieutenant Tu was worried about, but it would be impossible to know more without running some diagnostic tests. He rubbed his chin in concern, then tried to dismiss it from his mind. Spock would handle it and let him know if there were serious trouble.

Kirk was down to his briefs now. He stretched, then took his clothing over to the disposal chute near the bathroom. He didn’t really need a shower, but the thought of one felt good, and he stepped into the hot water with a sigh. The water played hard against his body; he had the spray turned up to maximum, and he liked the way it beat a hard tattoo on his chest and back.

He moved to get the soap and felt the spray hit his backside. It was…arousing. He grimaced into the mist but could not deny the sensations now coursing through his body and settling in his groin. Kirk looked down at himself, already knowing he was more than half erect. Well, what else could he expect? He hadn’t thought the evening with Spock would be so…stimulating; as a matter of fact, he seemed to remember that it had started with a few worries over whether he would respond to Spock overwhelmingly or not at all. But they had been teasing each other, one way or another, all evening long. The captain had little doubt that if the call from the bridge had not interrupted them, he would not be alone in his cabin now. Sporting a hard-on in the shower. And thinking lascivious thoughts of his first officer and best friend.

Kirk groaned and clutched his cock tightly, whether to stimulate it or chastise it, he wasn’t sure. He could hardly believe this was really happening. A month ago he’d been a perfectly content heterosexual with a wonderful, if unusual, friendship. Now his mind was filled with sexual thoughts of another man. He still wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, and despite his uninhibited response to Spock this evening, he was still occasionally filled with doubts. But the pulsing of the cock in his hand was not doubtful at all, and he gave it a little pull. Kirk had tried not to think of Spock in this specific manner after that night with Sandra. He had wanted to wait to see his friend to confirm that his feelings were an in-the-flesh reality and not the dream they had sometimes felt like. Now, after this evening, he felt no such restraints. He hoped Spock would approve….

Just five or six strokes and a repeat of the images that he’d had of them together out in the corridor brought him to a startlingly quick climax. He leaned back against the shower wall and watched the water wash away all the evidence of his passion. He didn’t feel the least bit chagrined, but proud somehow, that this solitary act had set a seal of approval on the changes he was seeking. If thirty seconds of imagination and a minimum of touch could do this to him, he could banish all worries about his physical response to Spock. They had always found their way together before. They could find one together now, too.

He toweled himself dry absently and thought about the evening. It had all been so right, even the time spent with that reporter. Kirk’s mind wandered over their discussion for crew disposition, then stopped as he remembered something. A slow smile curved his lips, as he contemplated possibilities.

“Kirk to bridge.”

“Lieutenant Vitek here, sir.”

“Lieutenant, get me a Mr. Ralph Randolph of the _Galactic News_ on the Starbase. If he’s out, leave a message for him to contact me.”

“Yes, sir, right away.”

Kirk leaned back, still smiling. He thought this would be worth the effort.

 

*****

 

Several hours later, Kirk felt refreshed after some sleep. He was up early now and prowling the decks, hoping to survey the ship himself before N’Kara came on board later in the day. Spock was still hard at work in Environmental along with a favored few of his usual team, but he had assured the captain that the problem was minor. Just a few hours more would correct it.

Kirk saw a familiar figure walking towards him. He smiled when he saw the special care with which McCoy was approaching. He must have just beamed up after a night on the town. The doctor carried something in his hand, and stopped and swayed when he came abreast of Kirk.

“Don’t you think you need a detox, Bones?” Kirk asked gently.

“Of course I do,” the doctor grumbled. “Where do you think I’m heading? But I had to see you first.” 

“Oh?” Kirk wondered, and waited.

“Yeah, I have something for you, and I don’t want to be wandering all over the ship with flowers like some lovesick boy. Here,” and he thrust the brown wrapped cylinder into the astonished Kirk’s hand.

“Why, Bones,” Kirk said, peering down into the open end of the package to see the tops of two red roses securely wrapped, “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I don’t,” McCoy said with irritation. “But there sure is a lady down there who does.”

“Sandra?” the captain queried, feeling foolish.

“Yeah. Said to give these to you, say thank you for the dozen, but she thinks you’d have better use for these two.” McCoy folded his arms belligerently and squinted at the embarrassed captain. “Now, are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or am I gonna have to worm it out of you with thumbscrews? I’m not used to playing go-between, you know.”

Kirk took the doctor’s elbow and urged him along the hall, acutely conscious of the first shift crew now awake and hurrying in to breakfast.

“There’s nothing going on, Bones,” he insisted quietly. “Sandra just helped me out of a jam on the base, and I sent her flowers to say thank you. All right?”

McCoy harumphed, which did not sit well with his abused system, as it was quickly followed by a small belch. He was not fazed by it, merely blinked, and pointed a finger at Kirk.

“As unlikely as that sounds, I’d still be more willing to believe it than that you’re courting her, which was my first thought.” Kirk shook his head quickly, emphatically, which elicited another harumph from McCoy. “Well, take your time about it then, you know I’ll find out the secret of Sandra sooner or later.” Bones stopped in the middle of the hall and licked his lips, considering. “The Secret of Sandra,” he said, capitalizing the words, then he grinned and slapped Kirk on the back unexpectedly. “By God, Jim, that woman sure looked to be something. Slinky as hell.”

Kirk was relieved by this comment. At least Bones hadn’t spent the evening with Sandra. He somehow thought that would be carrying shipmates’ togetherness too far.

They resumed their walk, unsteadily on McCoy’s part, towards sickbay. “So what’re you gonna do with the pretty flowers, Captain?” the doctor teased, having obviously discarded what little discretion he normally had in addressing his superior along with his uniform.

Kirk had had it with this conversation. “I’m going to put them where you’ll never see them, Doctor,” he said, and he strode away rapidly.

“Don’t do anything rash on account of me, Jim,” McCoy called semi-hysterically down the hall. “I’ll never tell.” He couldn’t help chuckling at a last glimpse of the captain’s retreating back. He’d really gotten Jim this time. Paid him back for that joke on Trinity. McCoy straightened up when two passing crewmen cast him inquiring looks. He’d better get to sickbay and that detox. Even officers as unmilitary as himself couldn’t be seen chuckling in the corridors. Jim wouldn’t like it. That thought set him off giggling again.

A few hours later, when Spock was finally able to return to his quarters to change his casual clothing for a uniform, he found an anomaly in the furnishing of the bathroom he shared with his captain. On the counter, just flowering into beauty, stood two red roses in a vase.


	8. Chapter 8

Later that day, Admiral N’Kara was piped aboard the _Enterprise_ with all due respect for his rank, and the ship began a leisurely warp two cruise to Starbase Fifteen. Kirk’s days and nights were filled with pride as he showed off his ship to the admiral. From topmost bridge to lowermost cargo hold, N’Kara prowled each deck. The crew’s efforts during the return trip from Orion space paid off, and the _Enterprise_ was immaculate in every way. Scotty had even managed to repair some phaser burn marks on the outer hull sustained during a skirmish with an overeager Orion. Not that N’Kara would have held the burn marks against anyone, considering their recent duty, but the action typified the general attitude of the crew complement, and the admiral knew it. Kirk found nothing to blush for during his lengthy tours with the admiral, despite his long absence, and he knew he had Spock’s and Scotty’s efficiency to thank for it.

The captain took the time to press for some design changes as they passed from deck to deck. The hanger deck especially needed some reworking, along with auxiliary control, and the science labs needed expansion. Scotty and Fraser had already made some improvements over the past two and a half years, and Spock’s Sciences department had long ago spilled over its allotted lab space, but such modifications could only proceed so far without major structural design changes. N’Kara carefully noted how the _Enterprise_ had been modified under the command of James Kirk; safety and sciences seemed to be the primary concerns, while the crew quarters had been given several smaller rec rooms instead of the few larger ones prevalent on other starships. Kirk cited his crew’s penchant for so many varied hobbies and activities with a smile, and said the rec room changes had been made in self-defense while he sought the quiet for a good game of chess. N’Kara saw a commander wise enough to adjust to the differences of his own individual crew, and sure enough of himself not to attempt to force them into a pre-determined mold.

Discussion of the hanger deck changes that Kirk wanted brought their recent TNT problems to mind, and N’Kara quizzed Fraser over security for shuttles and suits. New procedures had been devised and written up just days after Spock’s “accident,” and N’Kara was impressed. The _Enterprise_ had always had a sterling reputation, stretching back even to the days before Chris Pike was her captain, and now Kirk was carrying on the tradition.

Of course, personnel came under equally intense scrutiny. The ship ran drills of every sort for the admiral, including red and yellow alerts, evacuation emergencies, intruder and fire alerts. Spock’s calm voice could be heard announcing various conceivable and some inconceivable emergencies at any time of the ship’s day or night. The second time Kirk was awakened in one night by the warning klaxon had him wishing his first officer was not quite so efficient.

But the crew performed “admirably,” a joke going the rounds of the senior officers. Kirk was not concerned about or involved with the current third shift drill, a fictitious medical emergency, so he lay back in his bunk with a sigh. After a few minutes of contemplating his darkened ceiling, he got up and padded to the bathroom to relieve himself. Too much coffee, even Bones’ decal the evening before over discussion with the admiral, Spock and Scotty.

His eyes slid to the bathroom counter, where for the previous four days he had watched Sandra’s roses unfold from bud to full flowering beauty. Spock had not mentioned their presence to him even once, nor had they found the time for their “talk” once the admiral was aboard. Both of them were fully occupied with their duties, frequently working different and extended shifts. Kirk knew Spock relished this opportunity to show off the ship as much as he did. Neither viewed the inspection as an intimidating challenge, but rather as an agreeable, even enjoyable task.

Kirk’s eyes slid to the counter again as he washed his hands and drew a glass of water. He had reluctantly discarded the roses last night, as they had obviously started to wilt. This morning he had discovered Spock’s IDIC pendant hanging by its chain from the corner of the bathroom mirror. Again, Spock made no comment on this change in their bathroom decor. Kirk slowly sipped his water and gazed at the IDIC. Spock had just started wearing the Vulcan symbol recently, most notably during Miranda Jones’ eventful visit. Kirk had been pleased.

Now, Kirk stared at the pendant hanging against the glass. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. A concept essential to the Vulcan philosophy, as he understood it, notably violated in Vulcan’s treatment of Spock himself. First Sarek’s eighteen year silence, then T’Pring’s rejection. Not to mention the unspoken trauma of Spock’s youth. Yet his friend still revered the symbol and attempted to pattern his life after its message. Spock now offered it to Kirk in silence.

Kirk tipped the remaining water down the drain and returned to his bed. The IDIC had forcibly reminded him of Spock’s alien nature. He doubted that had been Spock’s intention, but it had happened nevertheless. If they were to accept each other in a serious union, it would have to be with a full awareness of their different backgrounds, psychologies, and even physiologies. What Kirk had told Sandra was true, he didn’t think of Spock as Vulcan, but just as Spock. But he was Vulcan, with all that entailed. Such as control of emotion. Kirk was a very emotional person, he knew, but he had learned to harness and direct his emotions to achieve his goals from his first day at the Academy. He could exercise control to match Spock’s, if he needed to.

Then there was the Vulcan dislike of touch. Kirk understood this one thoroughly, as it was shared by the few other telepathic races in the Federation, and taught as part of cadet training. Along with mental shields, it was a custom necessary for sanity. But Spock had always seemed willing to endure Kirk’s touch, had in fact subtly encouraged it. Kirk was a demonstrative person, he often talked with his hands. Demonstrative in other ways, too. He could remember a few times when he had been less than discreet with his love life. That time, for example, that he had kissed Areel Shaw on the bridge. He shouldn’t have done that, and knew it. He had never taken pains to hide his activities during shore leave. But if he and Spock were to become a pair, he couldn’t imagine continuing in the same way. Kirk might be careless about casual affairs, but never about what was important to him.

Kirk shifted to one side and examined the chronometer. 0315. Way too soon to get up. He needed more sleep, but returned instead to his thoughts about Spock. Thoughts about shielding and telepathy led him naturally to consideration of mind melds. Kirk smiled in satisfaction. He’d always enjoyed their melds, he remembered telling Bones and Scotty that. They always seemed to take a different form, his mind conjuring a different backdrop and setting for the mental communication, but they were also always similar in the pleasure he found in sharing Spock’s private self. And in offering his own most private self to his friend. If they became intimate, he supposed there would be greater opportunity for more melds. Deeper, more revealing ones. He would like that. He knew Spock had always taken care to keep their melds shallow, but Kirk felt curious and a bit titillated at the prospect of a deeper one.

The thought jogged a memory of the conversation they’d had while looking for the bonding present. Spock had talked about the compatibility of minds and mental intimacy being important in a Vulcan marriage. But what exactly did Spock mean by “intimacy of minds?” Kirk knew about Vulcan bonding, knew a Vulcan couple was mentally linked in a tenuous, subliminal fashion, but he didn’t think Spock had been talking about that. His tone had implied something a lot more explicit, and he’d even linked it with pon farr, although he’d called it “biological imperative.”

Kirk flushed in the darkness. His conclusion seemed unmistakable. Did Vulcans really make love with their minds as well as their bodies? Maybe at the same time? The thought was suddenly incredibly erotic. To possess Spock’s body, and his mind as well? Kirk clamped down on his growing arousal with the admonition that he didn’t know anything for sure. He and McCoy had accessed all the information on Vulcan sexual matters that was available after the disaster with T’Pring, and there wasn’t much there. If he wanted to know the truth about melds, and sex, he’d have to ask Spock.

T’Pring. That was another consideration. Spock had become a raving maniac, willing to kill his best friend while in the grip of plak tow, all to obtain the sexual services of his bondmate. Nothing of the calm, self-possessed, admirable Vulcan had remained. Would Spock be like that with him, if his erratic biology brought pon farr again? Could a human male serve as an adequate partner to a Vulcan male at that time? Kirk had no answers. Again he would have to ask Spock. Two questions, one of promised delights, another a matter of survival. He was satisfied. They seemed to balance one another.

Kirk turned over in the darkness and pounded his pillow. He wanted to talk with Spock soon, but he was glad of the talk he’d had with himself tonight. He felt…logical, for having contemplated their situation so seriously. Spock would be proud. But maybe that’s what the Vulcan had intended when he’d hung the IDIC in the bathroom. Spock could be a subtle individual, and Kirk wouldn’t put it past him to have anticipated his captain’s reactions. Well, he’d had his second thoughts, and he still thought they could make it work. Now, how to let Spock know? He thought for a while, but he couldn’t come up with anything symbolic of the conclusions he’d reached that he could use to replace the IDIC. He’d have to be content with the status quo, which was actually quite acceptable. He and Spock had fallen back into their comfortable relationship, with the additional spark of what was to come between them. He would have to be content with that until the admiral finished the inspection. N’Kara had indicated that their schedule could return to a more normal one starting this morning, but Kirk wasn’t comfortable with the idea of approaching Spock when N’Kara’s request for a briefing or a surprise alert could interrupt them at any time of the day or night. He was a grown adult. He could wait to initiate a physical union with his friend. Or so he insisted on telling the persistent throbbing in his groin that didn’t want to go away.

 

*****

 

The _Enterprise’s_ pool area was empty; the captain’s footsteps echoed hollowly through the large rec area as he walked over to the side. With the ship’s return to a normal routine, most of the crew must be catching up on their much interrupted sleep, or maybe just crowding the other rec areas. Whatever the reason, he relished the isolation.

Kirk dove into the warm water and slowly stroked out to the center of the pool. He started doing some warm-up and stretching exercises prior to the laps he planned on doing.

He floated idly on his back for a while, letting the absence of chatter and gentle motion of the water wash over him. He felt so peaceful, and totally relaxed. He imagined he was being rocked in a cradle and smiled to himself at the fanciful image. But it was true. He had rarely felt so content.

He floated like that for several minutes. Then he heard the door to the locker room open and someone approaching the water. Kirk closed his eyes tightly. Maybe if he kept them shut and made no sign he had heard, he would be left alone. Then he could just continue to float in this wonderful contentment.

But the feeling could not be sustained in another’s presence, and eventually Kirk became curious. There had been no other sound to indicate where the intruder was no matter how Kirk strained his ears, yet he was certain he had heard someone enter. He finally gave in to his curiosity, opened his eyes, and moved his head up as he began to tread water. His first officer, in swimming trunks, was seated at the side of the pool, a gentle smile playing about his mouth.

“Spock!” Kirk exclaimed from across the pool.

“Captain,” the Vulcan nodded gravely, but his eyes continued to twinkle. “You surpassed my estimate by twenty-seven seconds. I believed that you would succumb to your curiosity earlier.”

Kirk stroked over to the side of the pool and hung on to the edge with both hands. He was just to the left of Spock, a hairy leg inches from Kirk’s outstretched arm. The captain couldn’t help the quick survey he gave the other’s body. Spock’s attire, or virtual lack of it, was even more surprising than his casual clothing had been a few days before.

“I should have known it was you. Nobody else can be so quiet. What are you doing here?”

One eyebrow rose. “Currently, I am seated at the edge of the pool, conversing with you and acclimating myself to the water’s temperature.” Spock waited for the expected exasperated grimace, then proceeded. “Eventually, I hope to exercise by swimming.”

“I know that, Spock. But why are you swimming? I know you don’t like the water.”

“That is true. My youth did not accustom me to it. I must nevertheless swim occasionally to maintain my Starfleet certification.” Spock was scrupulous about following ‘fleet regulations. “I also overheard your comment to Lieutenant Uhura regarding your intention of exercising here this evening and took the liberty of assuming you would enjoy some company.”

Kirk pushed off from the side of the pool to tread water directly in front of Spock. He looked up. “Not just some company, Spock. Your company.” He moved forward until he could put both his hands on the bony knees. The action was intimate, their very first intimate touch, and his hands began to tremble just before they made contact, but once there he held on for dear life. Kirk couldn’t believe his audacity, but when he looked up again, he knew his friend didn’t object.

Spock was staring at him intently, both arms braced slightly behind him for support, and growing wonder in his eyes. His lips were slightly parted. As Kirk watched, he took in a long breath, and his eyes closed for a few seconds. When he opened them again, he seemed to have regained some composure, for the smile was back in his eyes, and he offered Kirk a raised eyebrow as well.

Kirk returned a little smile, momentarily bereft of speech, and trying to calm the pounding of his heart. He looked down again to where his fingers lingered over the warm flesh. He noticed a few goosebumps on Spock’s thighs. His friend wasn’t nearly as hairy here as Kirk would have expected from all the hair he sported on his chest. Just a few black wiry-looking lengths. So different from the flesh that the captain usually caressed.

Kirk looked up at Spock again. He wanted all to be open between them, could not risk the chance that he’d misinterpreted somehow. “You don’t mind?” he choked out, and his grip on the knees tightened.

If anything, Spock’s gaze turned even softer. “No, I do not mind,” he said in his soft baritone. He straightened and then leaned forward, bringing one hand from behind him. It came to rest on Kirk’s hair where the captain’s head bobbed gently between his legs. “Do you?” he asked gently.

Kirk felt as if he were drowning. The tension that sparked between them was almost unbearable, and it was mixed with the most unique sinking sensation whenever he locked gazes with Spock. Love, he realized dazedly. This is really love. It settled over him like a gentle rain on parched land. He wanted to soak in that mist forever. He closed his eyes and gave in to the sensation.

Then Kirk felt Spock’s fingers thread themselves through his hair and begin to lightly stroke. The movement called him back to awareness. Kirk began to rub his thumbs over the warm flesh beneath them, feeling them teased by the occasional coarse hair. The tactile sensation on his hands alone was not enough, he needed more, so he slid his hands up Spock’s thighs until they were resting just short of the swimming trunks. The length of Kirk’s arms were now resting against the upper legs.

He tilted his head to one side, laying it against one knee, and rubbed his face against it. He watched Spock as he did so. “How could I mind, when this is all I want?” he whispered.

Spock’s eyes seemed to glow, then darken. The hand he had in his captain’s hair slid down to cup his cheek. Spock leaned closer to him, and breathed, “Jim….”

“Hey, Captain!” an exuberant voice cried from the entrance to the locker room, followed by the sound of running feet and a loud splash. Captain and first officer jerked apart as if stung. Kirk turned in the water to see Lieutenant Dawson’s smiling face at the far end of the pool.

“We’re gonna have a water polo game in a few minutes, sir. Wanna play?” the younger man called.

Kirk glanced at his first officer and replied, “No, not this time. I’m going to swim laps. Make sure you leave us a lane.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, and swam off to set up the game.

The captain treaded water for a moment, and shook his head. Without turning to his companion, he said, “We, Mister Spock, have a jinx. Come on. Let’s go,” and he started stroking powerfully down the length of the pool.

Spock caught up with him in a few moments, and the two paced each other through their exercise. Spock was an adequate swimmer, no more, and Kirk was a strong one. Kirk could surely swim faster than the Vulcan, and Spock’s non-human strength would take him much further after the human was exhausted. But they swam together perfectly well, each adjusting to the strengths and weaknesses of the other, and each aware of the supporting presence beside him.

Eventually Spock stopped in the middle of the pool and began to tread water. His denser than human musculature made this a difficult task for him, and he practiced it diligently whenever he swam. Kirk finished the lap and returned to swim lazy circles on his back around his first officer. Spock found himself becoming distracted by the sight of the golden, well-muscled body before him, and fascinated by the way the light and water mingled to play over his captain’s skin. Spock had to momentarily concentrate hard to keep his head above water.

The water polo game had not yet materialized, and the few other occupants of the pool were clustered at a distance at one end.

“Captain, are you aware,” Spock paused until he was certain he had Kirk’s attention, and he re-pitched his voice just for the form idling a few feet before him, “are you aware that the last three times I have called you ‘Jim’, our conversation has been suddenly interrupted?”

Kirk choked, lost his floating conversation, and ducked under water. He came up quickly, grinning hugely and, with water streaming down his face, said, “Really? I hadn’t realized. Maybe if you called me something else, we could finally get to have our talk.”

Spock looked thoughtful. “A possibility. Shall I call you Daniel, perhaps, or Ronald? Or we could appropriate Nimarro’s name. I am sure he will not object.” Nimarro was the most wanted criminal in the galaxy.

Kirk choked again with laughter.

Spock relentlessly continued his teasing. “But perhaps Tiberius would be most suitable. It is your middle name.” He looked slyly over at the captain.

Kirk was red with half-feigned indignation. “Tiberius!” he hissed. “Don’t you dare! You know I hate that name!” He brought his face to within a few inches of Spock’s and tried to look fierce.

“I know nothing of the sort,” Spock stated calmly as he moved slightly away, gently waving arms and legs to keep himself afloat. Kirk’s actions were not currently so coordinated. “I know only that you have never, to my knowledge, used that name, only its initial. Perhaps now is the time to start.”

“Never,” Kirk declared.

“I fail to understand your aversion to the name your parents chose for you at birth. The Emperor Tiberius, after whom I presume you are named, was an able administrator and compassionate, for his times.”

“And a despot who ruled with an iron hand and consolidated the power of the emperor!”

Spock pretended to look puzzled by furrowing his brow. “I presume that this is somehow incompatible with your self-image?”

Kirk finally broke in exactly the expected way. He let loose an aggravated “Aarrgghh!” and shoved Spock’s head under the water with a strong grip, only slightly aided by Spock’s perfect compliance in the matter. He went on to slide his hand along one cheek under the water before turning and fleeing the length of the pool.

The few crew members at the other end were treated to the rare sight of their two commanding officers playing water tag. The first officer would get close enough to touch one ankle, then turn and retreat until the captain grabbed the Vulcan’s leg in turn. Finally, however, Spock trapped Kirk in the comer at the far end of the pool, holding him captive with outstretched arms to either side. Both men’s chests were heaving with exertion.

When he could talk, Spock said, “Captain, despite your superior proficiency in the water, you cannot hope to overcome my stamina. I have you.”

Breathlessly, Kirk agreed. “Yes, you do.” He looked deeply into Spock’s brown eyes. “You really do have me, you know. I think you always have.”

Spock’s arms shifted, moving a few inches closer to his captain. “As you have me. And always have.”

Spock’s words sent a thrill through Kirk, and the proximity of their bodies was having a predictable effect. Kirk glanced around to determine that there was no one anywhere near them, and dared to lay one hand on Spock’s side under the water. “Spock, this is driving me crazy. We’ve got to get together soon.”

“That, too, is my desire, but I had thought to wait until the admiral is gone.”

Kirk couldn’t resist tightening his grip on the warm skin and slowly sliding his palm over a small area. Spock gasped, and tension was suddenly evident in his arms splayed out against the pool walls. Kirk removed his hand before he was tempted to do more.

“I know, I can’t stand the thought of being interrupted again, either. And when we talk, it’s going to be a long talk.” A commanding officer’s steely note was in the captain’s voice.

Spock automatically murmured, “Yes, sir.”

They simply looked at one another silently for a few moments, then Kirk made a face. “So, I guess we wait.”

Spock demurred. “Not necessarily. Perhaps something can be arranged. I will keep you informed.”

Kirk looked at him, wondering, but Spock merely pressed his lips together and shook his head. “All right, you mysterious Vulcan, just make sure I’m the first to know.”

“Naturally…Daniel,” Spock said gravely. Kirk started to laugh but Spock looked carefully about the pool area, with the air of a scientist conducting an experiment. “Stephen?” he said experimentally, continuing his survey, apparently expecting a personal summons from the bridge, but still there was silence.

“We seem to have found the solution to our problem,” he told the gleeful human.

“Yes,” Kirk gasped, “but this might be hard to explain to the rest of the crew. Which reminds me,” he eyed the strong arms to either side of him, “you still haven’t let me go.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you really wish me to let you go, Jim?”

Both heads jerked up at the sound of the captain’s name. “You forgot, first officer, I’m surprised at you,” Kirk teased. “Don’t let it happen again. And to answer your question, no, I don’t. But we’d better go soon, or we’re going to be making a real spectacle of ourselves.” Spock’s arms instantly dropped from the sides of the pool, and as they started to pull themselves out of the water, the intercom sounded. “Bridge to Captain Kirk.”

Kirk was incredulous. “I don’t believe this. Talk about a coincidence.”

Spock shook his head. “No coincidence. I do not believe in them. Merely…a delayed reaction?” Kirk snorted his disbelief and moved over to the wall to see what the admiral wanted now.

 

*****

 

“Mind some company, Scotty?”

“Nae, Doctor, you know you’re always welcome to join me.” Scotty looked up from his reading and indicated a chair.

McCoy slid down with a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Boy, am I glad things seem to have finally calmed down. N’Kara had us jumping every other hour for a while in sickbay. My staff is about worn out, and without a single casualty, too.”

“Aye,” Scotty said sympathetically. “I know what ya mean. He’s a thorough man, that admiral, but I knew the _Enterprise_ had naught to fear from him. I doubt not, he liked what he saw.” Scotty was clearly proud of the way Engineering had performed the past week.

“Well, I’m glad it’s about over,” McCoy repeated. He surveyed the crowded rec room professionally; the room was filled with a somewhat boisterous crew. “Everyone is certainly more relaxed now, not so uptight. I guess we’re ready for the pickup from Starbase Fifteen.”

Scotty’s eyes strayed to the comer, where the admiral, captain, and first officer sat in quiet conversation. The engineer doubted that they would remain long; the noise level in the rec room was getting too loud for mere speech. He himself had been contemplating retreat with his journal and a wee bit of Scotch for the past ten minutes.

“Not everybody’s been uptight, as you put it, Leonard.” He nodded towards the comer. “The captain’s been in a rare fine mood lately.”

McCoy nodded too. “I’ll say. He thinks the inspection was designed just for him to show off the ship. He was positively laughing into his breakfast this morning.”

“He was, now?” Scotty looked curious. He had breakfasted early with a few of his officers, part of a weekly ritual he’d observed with them for years. “And what was he laughin’ aboot?”

“I dunno.” McCoy shook his head. “Nothing. I was just sitting there eating my grits when Spock comes along and starts talking about Nimarro. Jim seemed to think it was hysterical.” The doctor stared at his folded hands. “Come to think of it, Spock’s been pretty jolly lately, too…as jolly as he can be, that is.”

“I’ve nae noticed it, Leonard,” Scotty said dryly. He’d been an amused witness to the first officer’s and the doctor’s feud for years, and he mistrusted McCoy’s perceptions of the Vulcan. “But you know those two. Mister Spock is probably just happy to have the captain back where he belongs.”

The two men sat in silence for a few moments, then McCoy slapped one hand on the table and rose. “Don’t let me keep you from your reading, Scotty. I think I’ll go and scout up a gin game down in Rec Room six.

Scotty rose, too, and walked with McCoy towards the door. “I was just thinkin’ of havin’ a wee nip in me quarters, Leonard, and a card game would go mighty fine with that.” He nodded to Uhura as she passed him coming into the rec room. “Would ya join me?”

McCoy flung one arm around the engineer’s shoulders. “Best offer I’ve had all day. Let’s go.”

 

*****

 

“How did you do that, Spock?” Kirk asked in awe.

The first officer kept his face carefully expressionless and continued their seemingly endless trek down the corridor. “I merely asked the admiral’s aide what the admiral’s hobbies and interests were, if any, and then used my knowledge of ship’s personnel to make a suitable match.”

“But Uhura! She’s likely to get him interested in more than just her collection of African masks and carvings!”

Spock unbent enough to incline his head in a minuscule motion. His neck muscles seemed unaccountably tense. “That is, of course, a possibility I considered, and is the lieutenant’s private choice. However, she seemed quite pleased to have discovered another devotee of her cultural heritage. It did not seem necessary for me to point out that with the admiral occupied for the evening there would be no chance of another drill tonight.”

“Oh, no, not with Uhura.” Kirk chuckled, “she’s quick on the uptake.” The captain chanced a quick glance at the man by his side, the most he would allow himself in these super-charged circumstances. “Spock, you’re damned devious sometimes, do you know that?”

“Indeed not, Captain.” Spock permitted his voice to convey a minimum of displeasure, the equivalent of a Vulcan getting huffy. “I merely analyzed our…the situation logically, and took appropriate action. I trust Lieutenant Uhura will not feel compelled to entertain the admiral in any way repellent to her.” A note of doubt had crept into his voice, and he turned to the captain walking beside him. “You do not believe that she would….”

“No, no, Spock,” Kirk soothed. “Penda’s a big girl. She does what she wants, when she wants to do it. It would never cross her mind that you would suggest anything improper. From somebody else, yes, maybe, but not from you. N’Kara’s a gentleman, and she’s a lady. If anything happens, it’s their own private business.”

They turned together into the corridor housing their quarters. “Perhaps.” Spock’s voice was doubtful. “Nevertheless, I am her commanding officer, and it had not occurred to me until now how the appearance of what I said to her may have been at variance with my intent.” He shook his head once quickly in a very uncharacteristic gesture, and he and Kirk shared the simultaneous thought that Spock’s emotions were very close to the surface tonight. Kirk was touched. Spock charitably allowed himself the flaw, considering the circumstances, but his ineptitude with Lieutenant Uhura still concerned him despite his captain’s reassurances.

“You do not believe that I should return to the rec room and reassure her?” His question was partly sincere, but largely designed to evoke a tension-relieving response from his captain. They both appeared to be exhibiting the physiological symptoms of tension.

“No, I definitely…,” Kirk turned sharply into his door, which opened with its characteristic sound, “do not.” He walked forward four paces, enough to allow Spock entry and the door to close, and turned to face his visitor.

The two men looked at one another in silence for a few moments. After their continuous conversation through the corridors of the ship, the silence was even more obvious, and emphasized that they were finally alone together. It stretched and lengthened, became another entity with them in the room, filling the air and space with its presence, paralyzing them both without words. Spock became aware that it was so quiet that he could clearly hear the soft hiss of the ventilating system, and the intake and exhalation of each of Jim’s deep breaths. His eyes slipped for a moment to his captain’s regulation tunic, where he watched the rise and fall of the cloth covered chest, then returned to perceive Jim’s intent regard. It was…most compelling….

Kirk’s mind was racing frantically. Talk, they had said, they wanted to talk. But he’d had plenty of conversations about all this with himself already, and he was all talked out. Damnit! His impatient nature asserted itself. What were they waiting for? Hadn’t they teased enough? He wanted the teasing to end here, wanted to feel those Vulcan arms around him, wanted the reassurance of touch to replace this vacant silence, wanted to touch his friend….

Kirk raised one shaky hand. They could both see the fine tremors that possessed it just before his fingers settled on the dry cheek. Spock closed his eyes at the first contact, overwhelmed with sensory impressions. He swayed slightly, his world whirling, then settled to an anxious perception of each movement of Jim’s fingers.

Kirk touched once, twice, lightly, like one would touch fine porcelain, then his fingers began a gentle sliding caress that covered the entire cheek and gradually slid lower. The movement of Kirk’s hand was excruciatingly slow. Spock imagined that he could feel each centimeter of his skin that was being touched. It tingled with the memory of what had just been caressed, ached for the feel of Jim’s hand on each centimeter yet to encounter that delicate pressure. The hand gently moved down to run one finger along his jaw line, then down further to his throat. Finally Jim curled his fingers around the curve of the neck, just holding him there, and Spock opened his eyes.

Jim was looking at him. His eyes were bright, his face so close. He spoke. “Spock?” The voice had an intonation, a pleading quality to its breathiness that Spock had never heard from his captain before. He was totally subject to it, had no power or desire not to respond to that question.

Spock carefully extended one finger to touch his captain, there, where jaw and neck merged together just under one ear. He was mesmerized by the sensation conveyed by just one fingertip. Jim’s skin was so fine, so pliant to the touch here. He duplicated his captain’s touch, softly holding to the back of Jim’s neck, then sliding upwards to comb through the silky flaxen hair. He had touched Jim like this in the pool yesterday, but yesterday could not match the overwhelming excitement that was possessing his body now. Sexual excitement. His analytical mind catalogued and named the sensation, but he ignored the input in favor of experiencing the tactile sensation of his hand on Jim’s head more fully. It was pleasing, so pleasing to touch this special one so intimately. From the glowing look on Jim’s face, it was pleasing to him also. His captain was also experiencing sexual excitement, with him, for him, and the thought caused Spock to catch his breath sharply. A wave of heat swept through his body and he took one step closer. Jim’s other hand came up to rest lightly against his chest. Spock put out one hand to grasp a sturdy upper arm to steady himself. Their faces were very close.

Kirk took a deep breath and whispered wonderingly, “I have never, ever wanted to kiss a man before. Never. But I want to kiss you now, Spock.” Their faces moved even closer. Spock could feel the whisper touch of Jim’s breath upon his lips. “Can I kiss you now? Let me kiss you.” The words were low, so low, only Spook’s sensitive ears could have heard them. But his entire body was sensitive now, filled with the touch, the sound, the feel of his most beloved Jim. Now he would taste as well….

Jim’s lips parted slightly, Spock lowered his head, and their lips met for the first time. They were each trembling. Slowly Spock moved his arms to encircle Jim’s shoulder and back, and pressed them close together. Then they just stood there, locked in a soft closed-mouth kiss that slowly destroyed the remaining barriers between them. The barriers weakened when Spock felt the first movement of Kirk’s lips against his, as Jim applied the smallest bit of suction and he responded in kind. They cracked when Kirk felt Spock clutch desperately at his back and run his fingers convulsively along his backbone to linger along his waistline. The barriers finally toppled completely when Kirk flicked the very tip of his tongue to touch along the thin lips. Without breaking their contact, Spock rolled his head to one side and moaned softly, a sound that sent electric thrills through the human’s already aroused body. He’d never thought to hear a sound like that, not from his Vulcan friend. It was incredibly erotic, an uninhibited expression of pleasure, caused by him, coming from the most controlled person he knew. It made Kirk feel like a king, a god, omnipotent, suffusing him with a wild feeling of power. All his previous plans of restraint were immediately discarded. He wanted to hear that sound of pleasure again, wanted to hear and see Spock in ecstasy….

Kirk ran his tongue along the lips again, then pushed firmly to demand entrance to the unexplored mouth. But Spock was just as intent on the same action, and their tongues met between their open mouths. They were clutching at each other now, as their tongues dueled in the air between them, and taking deep gasping breaths that were wildly exciting to hear. Then the captain sucked Spock’s tongue firmly into his mouth to feed on the Vulcan heat. He felt the moan of pleasure rise from deep in the chest pressed so tightly to his own. He had never dreamed Spock would be so responsive, nor so vocal, but however unexpected, it was driving Kirk wild. Frantically he continued the sucking and exploration of the velvety underside of the moist tongue, undulating against it in a small fierce joining that mimicked his growing desire. It was an exquisite, immediate pleasure that sent streams of fire straight to his groin. Somewhere in the back of his rational mind Kirk marveled at how quickly they had excited each other, and knew he had not planned it this way. They were both fully clothed, basically just kissing, but even so his cock felt hard as steel, and he could not resist an uncontrollable thrust up against Spock’s body. He felt a hard shaft straining up against him, and knew they had reached a plateau of excitement that demanded action.

It was too much, too fast, and they both knew it. Kirk could tell the exact moment when the Vulcan brain clicked in to countermand the body. He held on tightly as Spock stiffened against him. With a sudden movement, the first officer pulled his head back from his captain’s, breaking the exquisite contact, and leaned his head along the side of Kirk’s. He was shuddering and gasping at the same time, and Kirk realized that he was in little better shape. They held on to each other for a few moments, regaining some measure of control. By unspoken common consent they slowly eased their lower bodies apart, but retained a hold on shoulders and upper arms.

Finally they were both breathing with relative ease. Kirk turned his head to speak directly into one pointed ear. “Wow,” he whispered. “I thought we were going to talk.”

“Indeed,” came the deep-voiced reply from over his shoulder. “However,” here Spock pushed them apart and held Kirk at arm’s length, “I found myself quite uninterested in conversation. You are far too distracting. Nevertheless….”

His sentence was interrupted as Kirk rewarded those words by leaning in for a quick kiss, briefly savoring the stern lips and then darting away. Kirk then silenced any further analysis by placing one finger against Spock’s mouth and finishing for him. “Nevertheless, we still need to talk. We need to. Despite the fact that I’d like to just stand here and ravish you,” here Spock ducked his head in embarrassment and Kirk’s voice softened, “we still have a lot to say.”

“Agreed,” came the brave voice.

Kirk took Spock’s hand and led him to the back of the office area, and pushed down on his shoulder until he was seated on the upholstered built-in couch that spanned the back wall. They had very rarely seated themselves on the couch during their many official discussions or casual chess games. But Kirk wanted this discussion to be as far from their normal routine as possible. As it was, he thought wryly, already.

Kirk grabbed a chair from in front of the desk, and placed it before Spock. He took one hand and held it as he lowered himself; they contemplated each other. Spock elevated one eyebrow. He now seemed completely at ease and in control. Kirk could hardly believe that this was the man who had emitted the sounds which had driven him into a sexual frenzy. But even the dark hair now was back in its smooth lines. The thought caused Kirk to swipe ineffectually at his own with his free hand, remembering with a thrill Spock’s big hands had cradled his head.

Spock inclined his head to their clasped hands. “Is this not a bit…unorthodox?”

Kirk smiled and tightened his hold. “Does it matter? Wouldn’t you say we’re a bit unorthodox?”

The Vulcan seemed to think about the question deeply for a moment. Kirk knew he was about to start their serious “talk.”

“Yes, I would say we are.” Spock was precise as always. “However, I never expected it of you. I never would have believed you would respond to my…affection, in such a way. This has been unexpected.”

Kirk knew exactly what he was getting at, but he decided to delay for the moment. “And when did you discover this affection, Mister Spock?” he asked in his best captain’s voice.

“When I realized that we were engaged in the human relationship called ‘friendship’,” Spock said, eschewing the precision of numbers for once and quite capable of teasing in kind.

“Friends, yes. We’ve been friends from the beginning. But I realized that I loved you even before Deneva. You knew that, didn’t you? Knew that I loved you, even when it was only as a friend?”

Spock broke their eye contact before Kirk’s earnest gaze and stared intently at the floor. “I could frequently sense your…affection. It would be illogical to deny the many actions you have undertaken on my behalf that have shown you value my being. However, I never anticipated that the feelings between us would be expressed in a physical manner. Your many encounters with women in the past precluded such a thought from entering my mind, until recently.”

Kirk reached out and gently grasped Spock’s chin, forcing it up so they could make eye contact once again. “According to my observations, Mister, you are just as heterosexual as I am, or have been. There’s just one thing that happened along the way. I fell in love.” His hand dropped to cover Spock’s, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to convey his sincerity. “Somewhere in all the red alerts, the chess games, all the mind melds, I discovered that I really love you. Not just as a friend, but as a lot more. A companion of my heart. Wherever else this evening takes us, Spock, I want you to remember this. I love you, in every way there is to love, as a friend, and as a lover. Every way.” Kirk’s voice was shaking with the intensity of the moment, and he was squeezing Spock’s hands hard. His emotions threatened to overwhelm him even more when he saw the dawning look of wonder on Spock’s austere face.

“It is difficult for me to dispute what you say. This feeling that has prompted my recent actions, it has been a gradual development with me also. Before you took command, I counted no one as my friend. Then I learned to appreciate our friendship, what you offered, and I was content in that relationship. Content for a considerable time. How is it now, that our friendship has grown to this?” He looked down at their entwined fingers, then met Kirk’s eyes again. “How is it that my appreciation for your being demands to be expressed…physically? With touch? I have observed friendship in many forms, in different species, and a relationship such as ours does not inevitably lead to a physical joining.” His fingers shifted and tightened against Kirk’s. “But ours has led inevitably in that direction, has it not?” Kirk nodded silently. “I do not understand why I have this compulsion to touch you, why I find your body so compelling. It is not the natural way for either of our peoples, nor as you say, for us, and yet it would be illogical to deny what is obviously within each of us.”

“Yes,” Kirk breathed, “it is within each of us.” He stirred in his chair, not sure if he could possibly answer Spock’s questions, but wanting to try. “I don’t understand exactly what has happened either, Spock, or what’s made us change the way we look at one another. But I do know it has changed. I’m…I’m so aware of your body now, when I wasn’t before.”

Spock nodded, but dropped his eyes to the floor. Kirk’s gaze fastened on the top of his head. “Yes, that is also the case with me.”

The exchange of small confessions brought a smile to Kirk’s lips. It was hard to understand why having his friend admit that he admired his body should send such a thrill through him, but it did.

“And those aren’t the only changes either. You’re not just a friend anymore, not even just my best friend. You haven’t been ‘just’ anything for a long time now.”

Spock moved one big thumb over Kirk’s. “It has been a…very long time since you have not been very important to me. The most important thing.”

A part of Kirk wanted to pursue that, wanted to ask Spock when he had realized he loved, when he had first told himself the truth. And then he would tell the “Story of Sandra,” as Bones had put it that day. But this wasn’t the time. There was still a question Kirk was laboring to answer.

“I’m so glad I’m important to you.” The whispered words and a squeeze of their hands brought Spock’s gaze up to meet Kirk’s. “Because I don’t feel complete all by myself anymore. There’s a part of me that’s really you. That needs you. We’ve shared so much, Spock. The ship, our dreams about space, these past three years. Now, something’s telling us to share our bodies, too, and it seems like a logical progression. I want to do that. It’s the most intimate part of myself that I can give you. I want the closeness that only lovers have….” He stopped, frustrated by the inadequacy of his explanation. The steady gaze at him was very open and appealing, and Kirk felt his heart turn over at the trust present in those eyes. How is it, he asked himself, that my logical science officer can do this to me with his innocent questions? Is it because I know he’s never asked them before, that his virginal heart is coping with questions of love just for me?

“Oh, Spock,” he softly breathed, and leaned forward until he was just an inch from the beloved face. “How can anyone explain love?” They met in a sweet and undemanding kiss, as quiet as their first had been tumultuous. As he felt lips soften under his, Kirk realized that he was asking the same unanswerable questions his friend was. But could Spock accept the emotions between them without understanding all the reasons why? Would an indefinable love be enough for a Vulcan who had spent his life controlling emotions, pursuing the cold clarity of scientific facts?

Spock felt Kirk tense as doubt assailed him, and he pulled back with a question in his eye.

“What is wrong?” he demanded.

Kirk shook his head. “Nothing is wrong. There’s nothing in the whole galaxy that I want to be doing more than what we’re doing right now. But I want to be sure, of you. Is this what you want? I understand that it might seem…illogical. Do you want to share a physical relationship with me,” he swallowed hard, “do you want to make love with me? It will change us, change our friendship, probably in ways we can’t foresee. We’ll be risking a lot. I want us both to be sure.”

Spock was looking at him calmly, but with a light in his eyes that was anything but reluctant. “How can such an act change us when we have already changed? As I have said, it would be illogical to deny what is. You say that you love me and would take me as a lover. I am unfamiliar with the emotion you stir in me, but I believe it would not be inconsistent with your definition of that word. We could choose not to act on what we have discovered, but to what purpose? I would not deny you, or myself, the comfort and happiness we could bring to each other.” He arched one eyebrow at Kirk expectantly.

Kirk could not help but laugh a bit shakily at the so-resolute declaration. He slid from his chair and stood before his soon-to-be-lover. “Only you, Mister Spock, could reach such a wonderful conclusion so logically. So….” he reached for the other man’s waist as Spock rose, and pulled them close again. Already the feel of Spock beneath his hands was becoming familiar. “Now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way, shall we proceed?” His heart began to hammer.

Spock was rubbing his cheek against his captain’s soft hair. He seemed to have a fixation with it. “That is agreeable,” his deep voice rumbled. “I believe the customary position is a reclining one. Shall we….” He nodded his head towards the bedroom.

Kirk couldn’t believe Spock was being so forthright. If he’d thought about it at all, he’d believed that his friend would be shy and reticent. But here was his Vulcan taking his hand and leading him to stand beside the bed, sliding hands under the gold tunic and urging him out of it. Spock seemed to know exactly what he wanted, and Kirk was perfectly willing to cooperate. By the time his hands were free of the sleeves, Kirk was eagerly reaching for the blue shirt, and then the black undershirt as well.

Spock placed his hands flat across his captain’s broad chest, surveying its hairless perfection in wonderment. Kirk’s hands were tangled in black chest hair when their lips reached naturally for one another. This kiss was like their first, gradually building in intensity until they were each devouring the other’s mouth while their hips sought each other as well. Kirk tried to maneuver them both down onto the bed, but he was distracted when Spock suddenly removed one hand from the back of his head and placed it squarely on the captain’s ass. Even through the double thickness of cloth, Kirk could feel the heat of the hand, and its movement as Spock clutched at the fleshy mound. He sighed aloud in pleasure, straight into his lover’s open mouth. Spock quickly grabbed him with his other hand and roughly pulled them even closer. Kirk strained once with excitement against the other, then moved one hand forward to press between their bodies against the front of the uniform. When his hand encountered the bulk of an erect penis, Spock gasped and pulled his head away, only to drop his forehead on Kirk’s shoulder and moan deliriously.

Kirk was delighted to have elicited that uninhibited sound from his partner again. He grabbed through the trousers again, and squeezed with his fingers.

“So you like that, do you?” he teased huskily.

Spock’s voice was unsteady, he was drawing in breath in noisy gasps. “I have liked…everything…you have…done.”

Kirk was not to be sidetracked. “But do you like it when I do…this?” and he squeezed the rock hard phallus once again, and ran his hand up the black cloth to cup the tip where it strained up and out against the pants material.

Spock moaned again, a sound Kirk was quickly becoming addicted to. “Yes,” he hissed, and he eased their lower bodies apart, resting his forehead on the front of Kirk’s shoulder. He was looking down at the wonder of his captain holding his hidden sexual organ in his hand, and he was mesmerized. He even forgot to squeeze Jim’s so shapely buttocks, an action that had been consuming his attention a moment ago.

He watched as Jim deliberately traced the outline of his penis, and held his breath when the fingers just lightly skimmed over the area of the sensitive ridges and tip.

“You know,” came a low voice from above his bowed head, “it seems rather illogical to try to make love with our clothes on. Don’t you agree?” Suddenly Kirk’s hands were at his waistband, easing the material down around his ankles and gently urging him to step out of them, his boots and socks. Kirk reached for the briefs, but Spock stopped him with determination. He efficiently stripped his captain of his clothing until they were facing each other clad only in their black briefs.

The situation could have been fraught with embarrassment, but their mutual arousal had progressed well beyond that. Kirk watched Spock watching him through slitted eyes, noted how the intent gaze traveled across his chest, down his midline to linger at his groin. Despite himself, Kirk shuddered all over, and felt his already erect member twitch and throb with just the mental stimulation of being looked at. He resisted the urge to grab himself and provide a little manual stimulation of his own. He could wait, if Spock could, drawing out this exquisite moment of calm in the midst of their private hurricane.

Kirk let his own eyes start to drift, taking in the strong shoulders that were usually disguised in science blue, noting in passing the way Spock’s chest was heaving even in their restraint. Or maybe because of it? His sight focused in on the dark nipples, just visible through all the chest hair. He hadn’t even touched them yet. He’d been so intent on Spock as a whole that he hadn’t even started to appreciate the various parts of him individually. They had so much before them….

His eyes encountered the waistband of the briefs, bulged out and upward by an impressive erection. Even in the dim lighting of the automatic lights of the cabin, Kirk could see the area of moisture staining the cloth around the head of the cock. Spock was obviously very excited. They were alike in that much, he thought. How different would they be otherwise?

He took a step forward and reached out with one hand to splay it on the hairy chest, his fingers spread with the thumb against one nipple. He pressed down hard and rotated it, rubbing the tiny nub back and forth as it hardened. All the while he watched Spock’s face, trying to gauge his reaction, and wondering how many of their physiological responses would be the same. After just a few seconds, Spock reached out to grab his shoulders, glanced down at his own chest, threw back his head and groaned loudly.

The sound sent goosebumps down Kirk’s back. Damn! He’d never been so turned on by a partner’s verbal appreciation before, but the sounds Spock was emitting were so absolutely…wanton, and so decidedly unexpected.

“I love it when you do that,” he whispered, bringing up his hand to toy with the other nipple. 

“Do what?” Spock gasped.

“You know, let me know that you like what I’m doing to you.” The hands on his shoulders were spasmodically tightening as his fingers moved against the tight little nubs.

“I cannot seem…to help myself…. You make me feel…. You are…so stimulating.” The incoherency pleased Kirk as much as the words did. 

“And didn’t I say something about clothing being illogical?” he teased, and slid his hands down Spock’s sides until they were locked in the waistband.

Spock went perfectly still, holding his breath, and Kirk eased the material down and over the cockhead while slowly going to his knees. He’d seen his first officer’s organ in a flaccid condition many times, in gym showers, occasionally when they’d shared quarters on various planets, once when they’d been stripped naked and imprisoned on a primitive planet. But now he was eye level with the obvious evidence of Spock’s passion. For him.

In the inevitable comparison with his own organ, Kirk decided they were a study in contrasts. He knew his cock was a sturdy one, not any longer than the average but strong, the way he liked to think of himself. Spock’s erect cock was long and thin, and flushed a delicate green. It looked heavy with arousal, and had a small bead of moisture oozing from its tip. The double ridges Kirk had seen before, but in their erect state they were flared out wide and seemed to beg for his touch. He hesitantly put out one trembling finger and traced halfway along the rim of the upper ridge. He heard a sharply indrawn breath, but could not tear his eyes away from the sight before him to further gauge his lover’s reaction. Kirk was acutely aware that he’d never touched another man’s cock before. All that had gone before, all the preliminaries had just been validated by the one simple movement of his finger. He’d touched Spock’s penis. It hadn’t felt strange or repulsive, but just so right.

He gave the organ another soft caress, running a finger up its length to end in the curly pubic hair, then rose with the same motion. Strong arms came around him in a gentle embrace, and Spock’s voice was muffled against Kirk’s hair when he said, “Oh, Jim,” with fervent adoration.

Suddenly they were kissing avidly again, punctuated by Kirk’s whispered declarations, “I love you, I love you so much, Spock.” In a flurry of movement they cooperatively removed Kirk’s briefs, and Kirk grabbed Spock’s hand to wrap it around his cock. It was his turn to moan with pleasure as the hot fingers began a gentle up and down motion, so gentle that soon he began to thrust forward to encourage a harder touch. It felt so good; Kirk knew he was on the verge of a tremendous orgasm.

Kirk opened his eyes, not even having realized before that they were closed in his ecstatic contemplation of the bliss created by the warm fingers. He whispered, “Let’s go to bed.” He slowly toppled over onto the bunk, drawing Spock down with him so the long body covered his own. He felt his penis trapped between them throb with pleasure as Spock adjusted his position until their two organs lay side by side. Kirk suspected that his friend was just as close to coming as he was, and knew that a minimum of movement would finish them off. But the weight pressing into him was so good, the gaze into his eyes so enraptured, instead of plunging towards completion as he’d wanted to just a minute ago, he stopped to savor all these sweet, incredible sensations.

“Don’t move,” he whispered /commanded to the face just inches from his own. “This feels so good, having you here like this. Please don’t move yet.”

“Yes,” Spock sighed, and slowly lowered his head to rest on Kirk’s shoulder. Kirk felt his heart swell with emotion. Spock was giving him so much, sharing with him his hidden sexuality, willing to trust him in his arousal; what could he possibly give to his lover in return? One hand stole up to tangle in the shiny hair, now disarrayed, and began to stroke its silken strands. Spock sighed, and tried to snuggle even closer while tightening the grip of his arms around his captain. Whatever it was that Spock needed, Kirk decided through the warm rain of love which possessed him, whatever would make him happy, that he would try to give.

“I love you,” he spoke to the top of the dark head, and kissed it. Spock responded to the fervent declaration by slowly lifting his head and capturing Kirk’s lips in the softest, most loving kiss the experienced human had ever known. He got the message right away. What Spock could not put into words, he was trying to convey by touch. Maybe Kirk would never hear those three precious words from his friend, but for now Spock was clearly declaring why he was there.

The emotion in Kirk’s heart and mind could not be contained, and it spilled over into his body. He moved his hips up once without breaking their kiss, needing to feel the matching thrill through his loins. He was immediately thrust back onto the mattress by a strong reciprocal movement. They matched thrusts for a few moments, trying to find a rhythm. There would be no turning back or stopping now. They were scaling the heights of ecstasy together, clasped in each other’s embrace.

Suddenly Kirk found himself lifted in strong arms and flipped over until they had exchanged positions, with Spock lying flat on the bed and Kirk stretched out over him. They were both so intent on completion that they barely broke their thrusting rhythm for the maneuver. Kirk could see his friend’s face much better now, and he felt his balls tighten irrevocably at the blatant look of satisfaction Spock gained from their new position. It must have been just what he needed to put him over the edge, for his hands pressed into Kirk’s back, he threw his head back and shouted, “Jim! Jim!” with each pulse of his erupting organ.

The utter abandon of Spock’s orgasm was all Kirk needed to find his own. He wanted desperately to witness every moment of ecstasy on Spock’s intent face, but his very involvement in his partner’s climax made his own immediately inevitable. He froze and willingly lost himself to the wonderful sensations that claimed him. Long moments later, he relaxed against the lean body, moving down so that his head rested against Spock’s chest. For a moment he was disconcerted, for he was used to hearing the steady beat of his partner’s heart from this, his usual post-coital position. All he heard was the faint rush of breathing. Then he moved his hand down to one side, and felt the steady thump, thump of the impossibly beating Vulcan heart.

They lay in silence for a while. Kirk was too full of the experience they’d just shared to want to say anything. He felt marvelously replete physically, and something deep down inside of him radiated a wonderful sense of satisfaction. He’d felt his attraction to Spock, wrestled with it, accepted it, and now had finally acted on it. It had been a perfect, shared moment in time.

But after a few silent minuets, Kirk became aware that the body beneath his cheek was absolutely still. Spock was barely even breathing. Kirk raised his head to look.

“Spock? Spock, what’s wrong?” His lover’s face was turned sharply against the pillow. His eyes were squeezed shut, his hands clenched into fists, the whole body as tense as could be. He looked like he was concentrating fiercely, either at controlling pain or fear. Kirk grabbed his shoulders.

“Spock, answer me. What’s the matter?” A fierce shake to the immobile body. “Are you hurt? Did I do something to hurt you?” He was almost shouting. Shit, how could someone get injured from a transcendent sexual experience? Trust Spock to come up with the unusual.

“No,” came the strangled reply. Brown eyes opened, and Kirk could see the glistening of extra moisture as Spock blinked back tears. “No, I am not injured.” He turned to slowly face Kirk. His whisper carried disbelief, and astonishment. “It is…it is just…you make me feel so much…. It is difficult to assimilate…I am unfamiliar….” The rest of the words trailed off and his eyes closed again. His face was a bit more peaceful, although the stiffness had not left his body.

Kirk’s first impulse was to hug Spock close and smother him with kisses. His friend’s words affected him mightily. He felt proud, and awed, that he could incite his controlled first officer to such a declaration, but he was also a little frightened. Some instinct prompted him to give Spock time to work this out himself, without human emotional demonstrations. Kirk gently laid his head back down on its hairy resting place. With all his thoughts about the two of them, all his worries, never once had he considered what the emotional content of their relationship could do. Selfish bastard, he mentally flagellated himself. With all his resolve about accepting the Vulcanness in Spock, he’d overlooked the most essential element. Spock had had years of learning to deal with the emotions of the humans serving with him, and lately had seemed to be willing to express more of his own feelings, in a limited way, and especially with his captain. But Kirk was willing to bet the _Enterprise_ that he had never been overwhelmed by love before. It was an overpowering emotion even for humans. Add forbidden sex to the mixture, and it wasn’t any wonder that Spock was finding the moment difficult to deal with.

A warm hand came up to tangle in Kirk’s hair, and the body beneath him relaxed slightly. Kirk carefully placed one flat palm on the nipple next to his nose, and pressed hard.

“I’m here, Spock. I’m here if you need me,” he whispered, he hoped in reassurance. Spock was usually so strong, so in control. What else could he do for his friend?

“I know,” came the low voiced reply. “That is both the source for, and the resolution of, my disorientation. The fact that you are here. That we are here. What we have done….” His arms tightened about Kirk, and he rolled them both over so that they were facing each other side by side. Spock gently ran a finger along the human’s lips, then raised his eyes until they were gazing deeply at one another. “My T’hy’la,” he whispered, “my special one,” and bestowed a gentle kiss.

Kirk felt blessed by the words, consecrated by the gentleness of the lips against his, and loved beyond measure. He closed his eyes and nestled deeper into Spock’s arms. They had loved, he was loved. Nothing could change that. He slept.

 

*****

 

Kirk awakened to the feel of a heavy arm wrapped around his chest and the sure knowledge that it was Spock. He smiled. The warm Vulcan body was draped all over him, pressed up as tightly as possible to his side, and holding him close with outflung arm and leg. For someone who normally eschewed touch, it was a pretty impressive demonstration of the power of the subconscious mind. Kirk found himself wondering if Spock had ever literally slept with anyone before, shared a bed. Knowing a little of his friend’s lonely childhood, and the walls he had built around himself while in Starfleet, he doubted it. Kirk was certain that Spock had had some sexual experience, but he was uncertain whether it had included the incomparable wonder of waking up next to the one you loved, or whether there had been any tenderness involved. Maybe with Leila on Omicron Ceti III. At least they had known one another, but Spock hadn’t exactly been in his right mind then.

Kirk was unsure of his memories of the event. Captain and first officer had never spoken of what had happened on the planet after it had faded from the viewscreen.

Kirk turned his head on the pillow slowly so he could observe his sleeping lover without disturbing him. He was startled and had to laugh silently when a soft snore emerged from the partly open mouth. The Vulcan stirred a bit, but then subsided into silence. Good. He didn’t want Spock awake yet. He wanted the time to savor this quiet moment and look at his friend with new, lover’s eyes.

But Spock snoring. Somehow he had never expected that. But it was endearing, as almost everything Spock did now was endearing to him. The ears, the mobile eyebrows, the way his friend stood next to him ready to defend or to tease, the deep voice speaking…. That voice just a few hours ago. A thrill coursed through Kirk’s body at the memory of the sounds Spock had made during their lovemaking, and the ecstatic voice crying out Kirk’s own name at the end. It had all been so incredibly erotic, a tremendous turn-on, but now in retrospect, very humbling too. He searched the sleeping face only inches from his own. There was no hint of passion there now, no sign that under the mask Spock showed to everyone else there was a sensitive man who needed to give and receive love. And the physical expression of love, too. Spock had been just as excited as he had been, had even admitted that he needed to touch to express how he felt about his friend. Obviously, or he wouldn’t be wrapped up by a sleeping body right now.

Kirk removed his gaze from the angular face and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and concentrated just on feeling the warmth of a precious body pressed against his. This was wonderful. He just lay there for a while, feeling the arm across his chest, the leg across his thigh, the chest up against his side. He was flooded with soft feelings for this unique being who had come to mean so much to him. This was

right, what they had done. It had been building for a long time, possibly from the first moment their eyes had met in understanding. And now that it had happened, Kirk couldn’t see an end. How could he ever stop loving Spock? It would be like not loving himself, like tearing out all he had become these past three years. His command, the _Enterprise_ , the insights and maturity he’d gained, it was all interwoven with the man who was ever at his side. As he loved his life, his ship, himself, so he loved Spock. One could not be divorced from the other. Just thinking of it sent a warm thrill of love

through his soul. He succumbed by turning his head and pressing a kiss on the high forehead, the only part of him Kirk could reach without disturbing his sleep. But Spock stirred at the motion anyway, so Kirk started stroking the lean arm flung across his chest. He waited until he saw a brown eye open.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”

One slightly bleary eye regarded him. The other was still buried in the pillow. “Unless you have somehow robbed me of my time sense along with my clothing, I believe it is not yet morning. Twenty-three thirty, to be exact.” The fascinatingly tousled head shifted, and the other eye was revealed. “And no one that I know of would call me a beauty.”

“Except me, of course, since I just did.”

“Except you,” Spock agreed.

They lay in agreeable silence for a while. Kirk was glad neither of them had turned off the dim automatic lights; it gave them a chance to just stare at each other unabashedly.

Kirk kept stroking one arm, toying with and pulling the hairs on it, then examining each finger thoroughly through touch. Slowly he brought the hand up to his mouth and started licking the fingertips.

After a third finger had been sucked into the moist cavern and examined by an avid tongue, Spock finally broke the silence.

“What are you doing?” he asked, trying to keep his voice conversational, but failing.

“I…am appreciating…your fingers,” Kirk mumbled around the little finger in his mouth, then pulled it out slowly. “Why, what would you like to be doing?”

Spock retrieved his now moist hand and tucked it between their bodies. “Do you mean, besides continuing my study of the Graves interstellar mass we discovered yesterday?” He displayed careful interest.

“Oh, is that what you were going to be doing tonight?” Kirk asked innocently, and hitched his body carefully over so his hip was pressed firmly against the Vulcan genitals. “I’m sorry I interfered with your plans. But I kinda enjoyed our time together tonight. As a matter of fact,” he wriggled side to side and distinctly felt the tip of an interested piece of anatomy, “I’d like to spend some more time together, right now.”

“If ‘time together’ is a euphemism for sexual activity, I believe I have recovered sufficiently from our initial encounter to participate. Is that what you wished to covey?”

Kirk smiled at him blindingly, and Spock actually blinked. “You know that’s what I mean, you fake.” A captainly finger poked him hard in the side, and breath was exhaled with a loud “Uummphh.”

“You always know what we’re saying, don’t you?” Kirk turned on his side and planted a loud kiss on his forehead. “You just like to see us look silly trying to explain a ridiculous idiom.” His arm slid down Spock’s chest, lingered in the vicinity of a nipple, passed further down to skirt the dark pubic hair, and finally came to rest on a bony hip. There he gripped solidly and pulled, so that their mutually burgeoning erections caressed one another. Spock gasped at the sensation and closed his eyes, but valiantly attempted to continue the conversation.

“I assure you, Captain,” the previously suckled hand came up to tangle in the gold hair, “I have no desire at all to make you look ‘silly’.” He opened his eyes and appeared to think for a moment, then leaned forward to bestow a light kiss on Kirk’s chin, then his cheek, finally his nose. The pursed lips hovered just millimeters from an enchantingly willing mouth. “However,” he moved closer, and Kirk closed his eyes in anticipation, “I do not believe,” they both felt the whisper of the other’s breath against sensitive skin, “that Doctor McCoy requires any assistance in that area.” Kirk’s laughter was muffled when their mouths finally made contact.

Spock rolled over to lay on top without breaking their kiss, then pulled back to look down. Kirk was still amused by the last comment, and very pleased to be feeling the heavy weight on his own body. It was such a unique sensation. He smiled mistily at his bedmate and was startled.

“Spock, you’re smiling!”

Spock bowed his head in acknowledgment but did not alter the undoubted smile that was curving his lips. His eyes danced and sparkled.

“I once told my mother that humans smile with very little provocation. Do you not believe that this,” his hand moved from Kirk’s shoulder to encompass their two bodies on the bed, “is sufficient provocation?”

Kirk laughed out loud in delight and grabbed the thin shoulders to pull Spock back down into a bear hug. They grasped each other hard and rocked a bit in the embrace as they each tried to convey through touch the flood of affection claiming them. The moment was too intense for their amusement to survive long, and Kirk’s choked laughter very quickly turned to blinked-back tears of love. To have caused this in Spock. To be able to share these feelings with the best, most important being in the universe.

“Anything to see you smile,” he whispered into the pointed ear. “Anything to see you happy. Let me make you happy.”

They spent a long time kissing then, gentle touches that explored face and neck, insistent demands that devoured mouth and tongue. Kirk couldn’t help but continue to whisper words of love and endearment. Spock listened to every sound but seemed incapable of uttering anything but an occasional “Jim” and satisfied sighs. With his friend planted firmly on top, Kirk wasn’t able to kiss the exotic ears as he wished to, but contented himself with thoughts of doing so another time.

Lips finally began to wander lower, past the collarbone which had been their unstated boundary. They nibbled at Kirk’s upper chest. The human relaxed back against the pillow, expecting careful attention to nipples and torso; instead he caught his breath at the totally unexpected sensation of Spock very slowly sliding down his body. The feel of hot skin gliding against his own was incredibly erotic. Kirk gasped and arched his body up in an attempt to capture every moment, every sensation for as long as possible. Finally only air touched him, but Spock’s face was now level with his straining erection.

The deep voice was low and unsteady. “Will you permit me to…touch you? I have never seen an erect human penis before. I would like to…explore.”

Kirk tossed his head weakly against the pillow. He was totally in the grip of his passions now and would have agreed if Spock had asked to cover him in concrete. “Go ahead,” he whispered.

Spock started with feather light touches that covered every inch of the erect cock, then he retraced his steps by rubbing two fingers gently around the head and single ridge. Kirk’s head was thrown back hard, lost in sensation. He knew he was giving verbal encouragement whenever a particularly sensitive area came under review, but it was a totally involuntary response. He couldn’t have stifled his comments, inarticulate as some of them were, if he had wanted to. He was held captive by the hand moving against his manhood, and his mind was totally subservient to the sensations coursing through his body.

When Spock’s mouth came down to cover the head of his cock, Kirk cried out once, not believing it was possible for his body to withstand this much pleasure, yet straining upwards begging for more. There was no way he could take much more of this. He felt the gentle sucking begin simultaneously with the tightening of his balls that foretold the coming explosion.

He placed his trembling hands on the bent head. “Spock, I’m going to come in your mouth!” he wheezed. The words reverberated in his mind. Come! In Spock’s mouth! His first officer’s mouth! The words seized his body and ran from his brain to his groin and back again, leaving a trial of fire and ice behind them. His body spasmed and bucked as the most intense erotic thrill he had ever experienced claimed him absolutely. Spock was sucking his cock, and he was going to come!

His heart pounded wildly, he gasped hugely for breath, and then he froze as he started to pump his seed at last. His eyes were screwed shut, but he saw in his mind how Spock swallowed each jet of come as it squirted into his mouth.

Finally the last sensation of orgasm left him weak and limp against the bed. He wanted very much to take his lover up and hold him in his arms, but he felt so drained he doubted he had the strength to do so. But Spock obligingly moved up in the bed and gathered the sated body to him. They lay together in silence for a while.

“Spock?” He was surprised at how small his voice sounded.

“Yes, Jim?” A warm hand came up to twine in his hair. He’d have to get used to that expression of affection. No one else had ever been interested in his hair before.

He shifted a little so he could see Spock’s face. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for the most incredible loving I’ve ever experienced. I can’t describe how you just made me feel.” They shared a kiss, and although Kirk felt lazy with afterglow, the intensity of lips on his reminded him that Spock was still aroused. He was startled that he’d been so wrapped up in his own sensations that he’d forgotten the needs of his partner. He liked to think he was a considerate lover, but this was something different…. He pulled back from the clinging lips.

“You open me to myself, Spock.” He searched the soft brown eyes. “You let me be so totally me. In all ways, even in this.” He touched the thin lips with one finger. “Do you know what I mean? It’s hard to explain.”

Spock was nodding. “I have frequently had similar thoughts about you. From our first meeting, you have accepted me for exactly what I am. I once read a Terran novel that described love in that way. Perhaps that is why we have come to this expression of our feelings. You showed me your…love…from the very beginning, in your acceptance of me.” The deep voice became reflective, and a bit sad. “It is something I have not encountered much of in my life.”

Kirk did not want their current happiness together to degenerate into melancholy. He aggressively pushed Spock back against the bed and straddled him possessively. He could feel the full erection press against his buttocks, and watched as a chill seemed to shake the first officer’s body.

“I intend,” he leaned forward for a quick kiss, “to accept a lot more of you before we’re through, Mister. Not that I ever intend to be through. Ever.” Too soon, his mind warned him, too soon for either of them to be speaking of forever, and commitments. It was all too new. But the oblique reference was worth the answering glow in Spock’s eyes.

“And now,” he snuggled down to lie flat over Spock, his elbows supporting his weight, “what shall we do about this?” He rolled his hips against the erect penis beneath him enticingly.

Spock’s eyes slid off to one side. “I…I would….” He seemed incapable of finishing the sentence.

Kirk gently cradled the austere face in both hands, and forced them into eye contact. He was suddenly serious again. “Spock, you can tell me what you’d like. As a matter of fact, we’ve got to tell each other what feels good and what doesn’t. We’ve each got the experience of loving women for our background. Maybe that will help, maybe that will interfere with loving each other. But we’ll never know if we don’t tell each other. And I’ve never loved a Vulcan before.” This with a swift grin. “I’ve got my reputation to think of. Tell me what you want.”

Spock had relaxed during this little speech, and now he answered Kirk with some composure. “You are correct. It does indeed seem to be illogical for me to be so reticent to speak when we are already in such intimate circumstances. I would be pleased…if you would do for me…what I did for you.” His voice rose to a little question at the end.

“Righto. One blow job coming up.”

Quickly, before he had a chance to think about it, Kirk’s mouth was engulfing the tip of the penis. Spock held himself absolutely still as Kirk ran his tongue over the head. Soft, so soft. Yet there was no denying the fierce thrumming of Vulcan blood that was causing the steel beneath the softness. Just the opposite of Spock himself. Kirk brought up one hand to hold on to the base of the long organ while his pink tongue softly lapped at his prize.

To the silently watching Vulcan, it was too much. Despite his intention of restraining what he knew was his overly vocal response, the sight of his captain bent to his erotic task so assiduously caused him to gasp loudly and clutch at his lover’s arm. “Jim!” he cried out, and surged upwards in pleasure.

The motion startled Kirk, and when the sensitive penile skin moved within his open mouth, it raked against teeth that he had inadvertently left exposed. Spock’s groan of appreciation turned into a quick yelp of pain, and he jerked upright in bed clutching his abused organ.

“Oh, shit,” the startled human exclaimed. “I’m sorry. I got you with my teeth, didn’t I? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know you did not,” his aggrieved lover said between slightly clenched teeth, as he examined his organ for blood, or at the very least, teeth marks. Kirk joined in the careful perusal, and thankfully discovered no sign of his attack. He reached out to gently pat the still erect cock, and found himself unconsciously spreading his fingers around its girth and pushing up and down. Just the way he liked it. Spock slowly subsided against the bedcovers, and Kirk looked at him apologetically.

“Guess I’m better with my hand than with my mouth. I’ve never given a man a blow job before, but I’ve had plenty of practice on myself with my hands. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Spock merely settled back more firmly against the pillow in response. His attention was not wholly on Jim’s words. The captain continued his actions quietly for a few minutes before asking, “Let me try again? I promise I’ll be careful this time.”

Spock was already too overcome with the rhythm of Kirk’s hand to speak, but he forced his head to nod assent, and Jim carefully bent to his task again.

It didn’t take long for Spock to reach the very edge of climax, and his cries of pleasure soon filled the cabin. Each one seemed to send a reciprocal thrill through Kirk. He carefully experimented with tongue and lips, licking and sucking, trying to find just the right combination that would bring that wanton sound again.

Spock began to thrust slowly, and then more vigorously into his mouth, and as Kirk adjusted as best he could he felt the ridges flare out even more, and knew that his lover was about to come. He took in as much of the long cock as he could, and then sucked hard as he pulled back on it slowly. The ridges flared out with a vengeance as his lips passed over them, and he prepared to swallow his partner’s life fluids, just as Spock had done for him. Would Spock cry out his name, as he had before? He was getting awfully loud….

So when Spock stiffened in final release, he found his captain’s hand clamped firmly over his gasping mouth. Even through the euphoria that claimed him, Spock instantly understood and strangled his outcry as best he could. When he relaxed back against the bed, Jim was looking down at him with a smile.

“You are terrific, Mister,” he said with a kiss.

“But, I thought you said you loved it,” Spock replied in an apparent non sequitur. He vaguely wondered how he even found the strength to speak. His climax seemed to have stolen all his energy.

“Oh, but I do.” Kirk settled down on his side next to his lover, his head propped up on one elbow. “But I didn’t want half the corridor to think the Klingons were attacking. That would pretty effectively stop any plans we might have for the evening.” His hand lightly touched Spock’s upper arm. “I hope you didn’t mind. I wasn’t sure how loud you might get.”

Spock looked thoughtful. “I do not understand what has come over me. I have never been so vocal with any of my other partners.” A quick glance over at his bedmate revealed Kirk had taken this comment in stride. “Perhaps it is simply the novelty of the situation; regardless, I assure you that I will better control myself in the future.”

“So you think you’re loud because of the novelty of our situation?” Kirk’s hand was slowly threading through the chest hair, and his eyes were twinkling. “And here I had thought that maybe, just maybe, it was because it was me here in bed with you. Not just someone new, but me.”

Spock fell quickly into step. “I will admit that as an alternative hypothesis. It is also possible that my fervent participation was caused by the feelings you undoubtedly arouse in me.” He was suddenly very serious. “I…trust you so very much, Jim. I have never…felt so much…for anyone.” He brought Kirk’s head down to share a tender kiss.

Kirk sighed and whispered in one ear before laying his head on an angular shoulder, “Neither have I, Spock, neither have I.”

They lay in silence for a while, and Kirk felt sleep starting to overcome him again. The sweetest sleep he could imagine with the most treasured being he knew. For the moment, all thoughts of their future, how they would manage their new relationship on the ship, how Starfleet Command would react if they knew, even whether this was the relationship that would be permanent, all was banished from his mind as he drowsily replayed the evening’s events in his mind.

“Jim?” Spock’s voice brought him back from the very edge of sleep.

He spoke into a warm shoulder. “Yes?”

“You said that we must tell each other what we would like.”

“Yes?” What could Spock possibly want?

“Since we are both male, I feel sure that you are experiencing the same post-coital lassitude that I am, and that there is no immediate reason for me to remain awake to provide for your emotional needs. If this is true, I would like to sleep.”

“Good-night, Spock.”

“Good-night, Jim.”


	9. Chapter 9

They jerked awake to the blaring sound of the red alert. Kirk reached for the intercom toggle, Spock for the clothing he had left tidily folded on the floor next to the nightstand. Their hurried movements clashed and their legs became momentarily tangled in the bedclothes. Kirk took the time to mutter, “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” as he forcibly kicked the tangled sheet from his feet. Spock made no comment at all. In the fifteen days since that intense and glorious first time, they had been able to sleep together exactly twice, and each time they had jerked awake to the summons of the red alert.

Kirk finally managed to extricate his feet and reached for the intercom.

“Kirk here. Bridge, what’s our status?”

“Scott here. We’ve just detected what looks like a ship under attack, sir. Typical communications jamming taking place, so we can’t talk with them. It’s the Orions again, or I’ll my hat. ETA sixteen minutes.”

“I’ll be right there. Kirk out.” He had been shrugging into his clothing during Scotty’s report and was just thumping into his second boot when Spock straightened to wait for him. Everyone had been sleeping within reach of their uniforms during this nerve-wracking tour of near-Orion space, and Kirk was grateful he and Spock hadn’t dispensed with the habit before they had tumbled into bed just a few hours ago. He could never reach the bridge fast enough during a red alert. The two men headed for the turbolift at a run.

They were silent as the lift rocketed up to the bridge. Kirk eyed the man who had been so recently sleeping in his arms. That part of their new relationship still surprised him. Each time after their lovemaking Spock had…the only word was snuggled…himself as close as possible to his captain’s body, and fallen asleep. And Kirk always awakened draped in Vulcan limbs. Spock seemed to have a great need to touch, and to be touched, one that Kirk was more than happy to fulfill.

But despite the wonders of discovery that were accompanying their sexual encounters, still Kirk felt like a starving man invited to a feast and then told to wait at the front door. They’d had no real time to be together. The first officer had been more than busy with the new crew members, Kirk with the demands of this patrol. No time for long talks, quiet enjoyment, casual chess games. No time to develop a new balance between them, a new personal relationship that included the passionate endearments they’d whispered to each other in the night. And even those two nights had been moments stolen from duty, quick encounters when they had come together explosively from frustrated need, with each sleep interrupted by the red alert.

And each time Kirk had held Spock afterwards as he stiffened, fighting with closed eyes a battle with the emotions unleashed by their lovemaking. Kirk had no idea what was going on inside that fiercely logical, brilliant mind that could cause such an extreme reaction. If it hadn’t been for the obvious fervor with which Spock greeted his touch, Kirk would have been reluctant to cause such almost-catatonia again. But Spock seemed to be as eager for their physical relationship as Kirk was.

And then there was the way Spock had been so formal with him lately when they were on duty. And not just with him, with the entire crew. Stiff and silent, so different from the passionate man he had just discovered. It almost seemed as if the release of the passion in their beds had exacted a toll in the way Spock faced the rest of the world.

Kirk wanted desperately to find some way to help Spock adjust, but the demands of their current Orion patrol, along with the new crewmembers, were making personal interaction between them almost impossible. They hadn’t really talked about themselves at all, unless you counted some incoherent mumblings and passionate cries as talk. Talk was what they needed. That and a little time to catch their breaths and assimilate all that had happened between them. Kirk’s lips tightened as he stared at the floor, then traveled up to the sharp profile. Almost impossible. He could try….

The turbolift slowed as it approached the bridge, and Spock looked up to meet Kirk’s eyes. The steady regard filled him with warmth. They were an unbeatable team. How could they lose?

The bridge appeared as the turbo doors slid open. “ETA, Ms. Dillow?” Kirk slid into the command chair and gazed over the navigator’s shoulder at the still innocent screen. He heard the turbo doors swish shut behind him as Scotty hurried to his engines.

“Twelve minutes, sir. We are at warp seven.” Spock had staggered the most experienced officers and bridge personnel over the three shifts. Either the captain, first officer, or Mr. Scott were always in command; Uhura, Sulu, and Chekov had each taken a separate shift to lend their steadying influence to less experienced officers and new crew. Sulu was currently manning the helmsman’s position. Communications were being handled by Lieutenant Resl’t, an Andorian who was the highest ranking of the fifty-two non-human transferees they had picked up from Starbase Fifteen. They’d also received the unexpected order to head for the Orion zone and patrol to protect against skyrocketing Orion incursions.

The captain turned his chair to the science station. “Long range scan?”

“Coming in now, Captain.” Spock’s fingers were racing over the console as he bent over his viewer. “Confirmed, one Class Two Federation ship,” the first officer swallowed audibly, and his voice sounded strained for a moment, “The _Tangent_ , registered from Rigel. They are in very close proximity to a vessel similar to what we have seen the Orions using the past ten days. The _Tangent_ is equipped with minimal shields and offensive capability and should not be able to resist an attack.”

Kirk was staring at the screen in horror. “Class Two? My God, the Orions are after a passenger ship?” Like the other ships they had seen floating lifeless in space, the _Tangent_ must have ignored Starfleet’s warning to avoid the area.

The crew was absolutely quiet. They had already witnessed death and destruction as they had rescued one freighter after another from attack, but at least the actual toll of lives had been few. This was the first passenger vessel the _Enterprise_ had encountered.

Into the stunned silence, Spock’s calm voice was heard. “Affirmative, Captain.” He turned to face the center chair. “The ship is capable of transporting two hundred passengers with crew.”

“We’ve got to win this one,” Kirk said grimly. He thumbed the console. “Scotty, can you give me warp nine? We’ve got a passenger ship here.”

“A passenger ship?” Silence for a few seconds as the implications sank in. “Aye, sir, we’ll give you warp nine if I have ta burn coal ta do it.”

Kirk nodded to Dillow and Sulu before him. “Warp nine and new ETA, Lieutenants.”

Sulu was ready with the information. “Five point seven minutes, Captain.” Spock’s penchant for precision was infectious.

“Good.” The ship strained under the demands of the higher warp speed. Kirk ignored the worrisome sound. Scotty wouldn’t let harm come to his beloved engines, and would push them only so far. He would never let them reach the breaking point. Kirk hoped.

“Mr. Resl’t, give me shipwide audio, please.” He waited a moment, and then spoke to the entire crew. "This is Captain Kirk. Orion Plan A is now implemented. All crew to their stations. Up to two hundred lives are at stake this time. Section heads report in when ready. Good luck. Kirk out.”

Sulu was staring at the star-scattered screen. Even at warp nine, they seemed to be just crawling through the immensity of space. He reached out to minutely adjust a control and said to no one in particular, “I sure hope this plan works. I don’t want to see another Orion blow up in my face.”

“It will, Lieutenant.” The captain stood behind the helmsman’s chair and placed one hand on his shoulder, but his eyes slid to meet Spock’s at the science station. The two of them had devised this plan to prevent the typical Orion self-destruct five days ago, while lying together in bed in the early hours of the morning. It had been their much anticipated second time together. By that time they had already encountered three Orion ships. Two had destroyed themselves, one had escaped leaving behind a badly damaged Federation vessel that the _Enterprise_ could not ignore for the chase. Consequently, their passion had been punctuated by serious discussion about the Orions’ new equipment and determining what was behind the new rash of attacks. Only moments before Spock’s second orgasm he had gasped out _transporter,_ and the plan had evolved from there.

Of course, Kirk had teased Spock unmercifully about keeping his mind on the project at hand, but in truth he had been inordinately pleased at this one indication that their professional lives could be meshed with their new personal relationship. During those snatched moments when they were lying in each other’s arms they were so together; just a short while ago Kirk had felt the connection so deeply he had at one point almost believed he was making love to himself. But perhaps that had been because of their first attempt at mutual oral lovemaking. A shattering experience for body and soul.

The reverie had taken only a few seconds, but when Kirk pulled back from it to find his hand still on Sulu’s shoulder and his eyes still locked with Spock’s, he stalked back to his command chair in anger. Shit! He couldn’t let that happen again. No matter how much in love he was, no matter how new and unusual the circumstances, he was captain of the _Enterprise_ first, and that definitely did not include daydreaming in the midst of a crisis.

By the time he had settled back into his seat with determination, Lieutenant Commander Giotto was calling in from the hanger deck.

“We’re ready on the hanger deck, sir. I’ve got all forty security guards armed with phasers and deployed behind portable shields. We should have no trouble at all getting each Orion as they come in.”

“Good, Sam. Keep those phasers on stun, but remember this is a ruthless, violent race. Don’t risk our people at all. Do what you need to in order to protect yourselves.”

“Understood, sir. Giotto out.”

Then Fraser was on the line. His clipped tones were not as calm as Giotto’s had been.

“Fraser here, sir. We’ve got two details of thirty each at the two ends of the hanger deck. We’re all set. If Kyle can get them here, and security can stun them, we can haul them out to detention.”

 

“Fine. Don’t forget to make a quick search for booby traps when you take their personal weapons, especially among the later groups who might have figured out what we’re doing.” They’d gone over all this in the briefings days before, but Kirk couldn’t resist the last minute advice. “Does the group doing guard duty all have their phasers?”

Chekov’s voice broke in. “Aye, Keptin. This is Ensign Chekov. Ve are prepared to maintain order in the cargo hold as the prisoners come around. Dere vill be no trouble here. You kin be sure of it.”

Kirk was amused by the absolute finality of Chekov’s words. Had he ever been so certain?

“Fine, Ensign, Commander Fraser. Just remember, if anyone’s hurt, I want it to be them, not us. Kirk out.”

The last report came from Lieutenant Kyle. He had the awesome responsibility of coordinating the six transporter rooms and the one cargo transporter as the technicians attempted the delicate task of plucking the unsuspecting Orions from their ship and over to the _Enterprise’s_ hanger deck. Crossed transporter beams would instantly cause the molecular matrix to disassemble, and their chance to interrogate those prisoners would be lost forever. That meant some of the transportees would have to be held in stasis while the group before them was stunned and literally dragged off to detention. It was a delicate maneuver even in the best of times. And timing was crucial. They had to get as many of the command and engineering crew off the presumably disabled ship as quickly as possible, before the self-destruct order could be given and implemented, or before what was happening became apparent to the rest of the vulnerable Orion crew. It was so dangerous, they were bound to lose some of the Orions in the beam, but Kirk could think of no other way to guarantee them access to the information they needed.

After Kyle’s check-in, the bridge was unnaturally quiet. They were streaking towards the _Tangent_ at speeds that strained their engines audibly, but they would still need to slow somewhat to reach sublight and engage in battle. Each second was begrudged.

“Captain.” Spock’s voice sounded loud in the silence. His head was tilted as he assimilated raw data from the com-link in his ear. “I am now able to pick up readings from the confrontation.” Every head swiveled in his direction. “The _Tangent_ appears to be retreating towards a planetary system at its top speed. The Orions are firing on the ship. Shields are holding. Retreat continuing. No, one shield down.” Long fingers flew over the console, seeking information. The dispassionate voice gave quiet details of the battle raging millions of kilometers away. “The planetary system has a considerable asteroid belt, Captain. I believe it is logical to assume that the _Tangent_ will be seeking refuge there.” His eyes met Kirk’s in a significant glance. This was important information.

Kirk whirled to Lieutenant Resl’t. “Damn the jamming! Get me that captain now.”

There was a muttered, “I’ll try.” The entire communications department had been working on a way around the Orion jamming, and just the previous day Uhura had informed Kirk that they were making progress. Now Kirk waited tensely while the Andorian’s fingers flew across his console. A nod from Resl’t and the captain was on his feet and speaking quickly.

“This is Captain Kirk of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_. Do not, repeat, do not enter the asteroid belt while under attack. Our ETA to your position,” he glanced at Sulu, who held up two fingers, “just two minutes. Do you receive me?”

For a few moments the response was only the jamming static, then a frantic voice could be heard over the noise. “Emergency! Any ship…of my voice. We are…by Orions. Emergency! We have…children…ship and no weapons. Emmer …" The rest of the broadcast was drowned in static.

Lieutenant Resl’t looked over at Kirk. His antennae were quivering. “They’re not receiving us, sir.”

“Damn!” His fist punched into one hand. “Keep trying, Lieutenant! Find a way to get through to them!” The Andorian’s antennae actually curled at the intensity of Kirk’s command, but he turned back to his board with determination.

But after thirty seconds of crackle and increasingly desperate pleas from the _Tangent_ , Resl’t looked back at where Kirk was standing straight as an arrow next to the bridge railing. “I don’t think I’ll be able to break through, Captain.”

“Keep trying.” A relentless command, issued through gritted teeth. Kirk moved to stand next to the command chair and looked towards the science station.

Spock took up his monologue again. “They have obviously not heard our warning. The _Tangent_ is now entering the asteroid belt and is turning to present its strong shields to the Orions.” A pause, while the first officer adjusted a dial.

“The other ship is circling. Phasers firing.” There was a sudden loud burst of static from the speaker still relaying the _Tangent_ ’s urgent pleas for help. Spock jerked his head slightly in reaction, and his lips thinned, but he continued in a dispassionate voice. “Conventional weaponry only, equal to our own. The _Tangent_ is now moving quite sluggishly. I would venture to say that the enemy has a tractor beam locked on. Another phaser barrage. Shields are weakening. Shields down now completely.” The static that had been pouring out of the speaker stopped suddenly, and the bridge was filled with an ominous silence. The entire bridge crew seemed frozen into immobility. Sulu’s hands were resting against his console, but the straining tendons there were clearly visible. The front of the navigator’s console was pressing into Lieutenant Dillow’s mid-section as she leaned forward with eyes intent on the screen. Kirk was still standing next to the command chair, his head up, his nostrils flaring just a bit, a grim and desperate determination in his eyes. The tension was palpable. And Spock’s next words only made it worse.

“The _Tangent_ is drifting in space. Damage to the port side is considerable, especially near the engine area.” Dillow’s sharply indrawn breath and whispered “Oh, no!” could be clearly heard all over the bridge.

“ETA, Mr. Sulu?” Kirk fairly hissed.

“One minute, twenty seconds, sir.”

Kirk pounded his chair’s armrest in silent rage, then moved to stand next to the helmsman, his fists curling in frustrated impotence. There was nothing they could do at this distance. Nothing at all.

The end, when it came, was unspectacular. One of the two tiny pinpoints of light that had been growing on their viewscreen simply grew brighter for a moment, and then disappeared altogether. Spock winced and reached up to resettle the comlink more firmly in his ear. He announced, his voice just the slightest bit unsteady, “The _Tangent_ has disintegrated upon impact with a significantly-sized asteroid. Her antimatter pod must have been breached.” He paused for a moment to take a deep breath. Spock was achingly aware that he was announcing the deaths of more than two hundred sentient beings, and he looked over at where Kirk was still staring at the star-filled screen. “The Orions undoubtedly did not have the power to extend their own shields.”

Kirk walked swiftly back to his chair and pounded the armrest again, his head down. “Damn, damn, damn,” he whispered. “We were almost there. Just another minute.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Two hundred lives. Children.” He contemplated the screen during the profound silence that encapsulated the bridge, then strode purposefully across the well to Spock’s station.

“How-about the Orion ship? Did they get caught in the blast?”

Spock sat down in the chair before his station and got the faraway look that meant he was interpreting complex data. Kirk waited impatiently.

“Inconclusive, Captain. Although from the close proximity to the blast, it would be logical to assume that they sustained some damage.”

“Good,” Kirk muttered. “Let’s hope we can make this quick and keep them off balance. Do you think they know we’re here yet?”

“Affirmative. They are turning strong-side shields in our direction. From the sluggishness of their movement as they retreat from the asteroid field, it is safe to assume their impulse drive is damaged in some way.” The first officer paused as if reconfirming some data. “Also, they are now orienting the shields towards us at an angle.” He looked down at his captain standing tensely in the bridge well. Kirk instantly interpreted the information.

One fist banged into an open palm. “Right! We’ve got them! They wouldn’t be doing that unless they had damaged shields.” He strode back to the center chair vigorously. “Sulu, Dillow, let’s not have anything fancy, we already know we can take anything they can throw at us. Let’s hit them hard and fast with everything we’ve got. I want them defenseless as quickly as possible.”

“Aye, aye, sir. Dropping to sublight now.” Sulu concentrated on maneuvering the ship to optimum firing position, while Dillow readied the phaser banks.

“Lock on to the shield right next to their damage, as close to what they’re trying to protect as possible. Within firing range?”

“At extreme range in ten seconds, sir.”

“Drop shields and commence firing in eight seconds, Lieutenant. Lieutenant Resl’t,” Kirk turned to speak over his shoulder, “ship wide audio again.” He waited, and started to speak just as the first whine of the phasers was heard. “All hands, Orion Plan A to begin momentarily, on Mister Spock’s signal. Be alert for incoming prisoners.”

After the tension of the past few minutes, the battle was almost anti-climactic. Sulu and Dillow worked smoothly under Kirk’s tersely worded commands. Spock provided them with continually updated information from the sensors. Within a minute of a no-nonsense heavy phaser barrage, the Orions’ shields were down and the pirate ship defenseless. Ten seconds after that, Giotto reported the first group of Orions stunned on the hanger deck floor. Spock provided a steady stream of information about the remaining crew on the ship, while Sulu backed the _Enterprise_ away from the pirate to the extreme range of the transporter. They did not want to be caught in the backlash if one desperate Orion managed to fulfill his race’s requirement for a defeat.

It seemed like a long time, with every nerve straining and waiting for the ship on the viewscreen before them to blow into incandescent bits. But actually it was only four minutes after the initial beam-over that Spock straightened and reported, “All Orions have been removed from their vessel. Fifty-two are currently being held in a suspended beam while awaiting room for dematerialization. I can detect no indication on the ship of an energy build-up prior to a detonation. I believe we have been successful.”

A subdued cheer made its way around the bridge. But there was still much to be done to call the operation a success, and Kirk quickly called them all back to business.

He addressed the first officer. “Even if there’s no sign of danger, I want to wait thirty minutes before anybody beams over. Less chance of a delayed destruct.”

“I concur. Although I do believe it doubtful any Orion had sufficient time to implement such a procedure. It is wise to be cautious.”

Kirk threw Spock a wary glance. Was that a not so-subtle way of commenting on his own impetuous nature? Surely Spock was aware he would be among the first to visit the Orion ship? He decided to ignore the comment.

“How many did we lose in the beaming process?” Everyone had agreed, even Scotty and Kyle, that there would be some inevitable casualties.

“As we suspected, the cargo transporter was not able to maintain beam integrity during the intense activity. Two materializations of ten each were unsuccessful.”

Kirk was rubbing his chin. “Twenty, huh. Not too bad, considering what could have happened.” Kirk could feel no sorrow over the deaths, not after the attacks they’d witnessed and the destruction of the _Tangent_. He looked back up at his first officer. “Spock, you take the con. I’m going down to the cargo bay to check on the Orions.”

“Yes, sir,” Spock said calmly, but his eyes followed the captain off the bridge before he returned to the sensors.

The Orions were laying on their sides in neat rows, nine in each of the small holding areas hastily constructed with partitions and manic work by the maintenance crew. McCoy had suggested the sides only positions to accommodate Orion physiology. Spock had advised nine to each cell, as it held some sort of negative cosmic significance in Orion mythology. Trust Spock to somehow know about the Orion concept of hell.

As he toured the area, Kirk noted with approval that all the officers were confined together; assuming, of course, that the red octagon shaped tattoo on the center of a high Orion forehead and the accompanying red brocaded chest sash meant _leader._ The Orions had startlingly broad foreheads and a wedge-shaped hairline that didn’t begin until halfway up their scalps. The criss-crossed, rather inadequate uniforms revealed that their hair extended over their shoulders, down their arms, and more than halfway down their backs.

Kirk tilted his head in an effort to see past the distortions caused by the slack, lifeless-looking bodies. It was the first time he had encountered male Orions in the flesh. But there wasn’t much more to see. They were generally slightly built, most no taller than Kirk himself, and probably massing a good three kilos less. He knew that the build was deceptive. There was something about their bone structure, Bones had tried to explain to him, that made the Orions much stronger than they looked. Each of the aliens was green-skinned, but their hair was uniformly dark. Not too different from the other humanoid races of the Federation. But if appearance did not set the Orions apart, their ruthlessness did. Kirk could not shake the vision of the _Tangent_ exploding from his mind; the echoes of the screams that he had never actually heard resounded in his ears. The Orions were responsible for that, and for the misery of their slave-centered culture. He moved away from the officers’ cells, in a vain attempt to distance himself from their brutality.

Kirk stopped before the station Chekov was examining, and together they watched Sociologist Britt make a quick survey of the recumbent forms before her. She spoke softly into a ‘corder as she made observations of color, texture, design of clothing, anything that could possibly be observed. The _Enterprise_ had the rare opportunity of examining the enemy up close, and her scientists would not waste a precious minute in gathering all the information possible. Kirk was suddenly impressed with the efficiency of his crew.

The captain turned to Chekov. “How much longer will they be out?”

“Doctor McCoy thinks a total of about forty minutes, Keptin. For this group, another twenty-five or so.”

“Good. You’ve done a good job so far, Ensign. Keep it up. How many did we bring in altogether?”

They started to walk together back to the cargo bay entrance. “Dere are one hundred and fifteen confined here, sair. Seven are in sickbay. Doctor McCoy took them away when they showed distress from the stun.”

Kirk nodded. This too they had expected and planned for. Information on Orion physiology had been scant, and they hadn’t known for sure how the prisoners would react to the stun. “You sent armed escort with them?”

Chekov looked mildly insulted. “Of course, sair. There are three guarding seven. I did not think dere was any need for more!”

Kirk smiled slightly and patted the younger man on his back. “All right, Pavel. That’s fine. But be careful as they start to come around. I don’t want them strangling each other in a mass suicide attempt. Which reminds me. Remove the sashes the officers are wearing. Easy to use as a weapon, and maybe they’ll feel naked without a symbol of their authority.

Chekov looked chagrined. “Yes, sair. I shouldn’t have missed that. Right away.” The youngster turned to go.

One final reminder. “Let me or Commander Giotto know as soon as the officers are conscious.” Chekov nodded and then hurried away, but Kirk’s mind was already elsewhere. There was a chance he wouldn’t be on the _Enterprise_ when the prisoners regained consciousness, as he was anxious to beam over to the enemy ship. He didn’t think his absence would be important. Intuition told him their answers lay in the hardware on the ship. Although he intended to try, he doubted that interrogation would gain them much. But before he could beam over, there was one other place he had to visit first.

McCoy was fastening a last restraint over an Orion’s curled up legs when Kirk walked into the sickbay ward. The doctor met Kirk’s eyes with a frown. McCoy had not been happy with the plan from the beginning. His well-known distrust of the transporter had blended with his innate reverence for life, and he had feared massive casualties. He had accepted the necessity for the group beamings only reluctantly.

Now McCoy ignored Kirk and deliberately dropped his eyes to the alien on the diagnostic bed. After silent consideration, he pressed a hypo to one arm. In a moment the reading changed, apparently for the better, and the doctor busied himself with checking the humanoid’s vital signs.

Kirk waited patiently. He understood McCoy’s need to be the physician in the presence of his captain now. The doctor’s objections had been overruled and virtually ignored during this Orion operation, and Kirk had had no free time at all to heal the breach. Hell, he hadn’t even had the chance to spend time with Spock….

So Kirk watched silently while McCoy fussed, fumed and fretted over the unconscious patient, emphasizing with his actions the essential role he played on the _Enterprise_. He was the King of Sickbay, and he was exercising Regal Privilege with every moment Kirk waited for his attention.

But finally the doctor seemed satisfied, and he walked over to where Kirk stood in the doorway.

“Is it true?” he asked without preamble. “One of the guards said that the passenger ship was destroyed. Weren’t there any survivors?” It was a fruitless question, bitterly asked, designed only to vent anger. McCoy was well aware Kirk would be heading any rescue attempts if they had been possible, and his own medical team would have been in the midst of the fray.

“What do you want me to say, Bones?” Kirk splayed out his hands, trying to speak reasonably in the face of his friend’s provocation. Didn’t Bones know he had done his best? “The _Tangent_ blew up when the anti-matter pod was breached by an asteroid. The Orions had destroyed their shields and we were still a minute away. Those are the facts.” Despite his best intentions, Kirk felt his stomach muscles tense, and he returned the doctor’s icy glare.

“Goddamnit, Jim, don’t tell me that. There’s always something you can do, you and this almighty starship of yours. These are lives we’re talking about here. Lives!”

“Doctor, I said those are the facts.” He gritted his teeth. “Nothing, no force in the universe can change them. There wasn’t a thing I could do. Not a damned thing. I don’t work miracles.” Kirk knew his own anger and bitterness were clearly apparent in his rising tone.

“But, Jim, two hundred people! Gone like that!” McCoy snapped his finger provocatively in the captain’s face, his tone half-beseeching, half belligerent.

“Yes,” Kirk hissed angrily, finally letting his emotions flow. “Two hundred people whose names I don’t know. And I’ll never know. I don’t want to know. I saw them die and it was just a spark on the screen. You never hear the screams in space, doctor, had you forgotten that? Not even a sound.”

McCoy, his face flushed, backpedaled a bit before Kirk’s anger. “Damnit. Jim, you know I don’t….”

Kirk wouldn’t let him finish. “Don’t what, doctor? Don’t mean to say I don’t give a damn? That I’m a hard-bitten bastard who can watch people die without caring?” Kirk’s eyes had narrowed to tight slits. “Say whatever the hell you want to say, it won’t change a thing. It still happened.”

The two men confronted one another tensely. Kirk’s eyes were hard and bright, his fists clenched by his side. The bow-string-tight body finally communicated to McCoy’s physician’s eyes when words had not.

He took one step back and half-turned away. “I guess you couldn’t very well have announced the explosion over the intercom.”

“No. I don’t think that would have been too smart.” Kirk’s voice was quietly sarcastic.

“And I’m sure we were already going as fast as we could.”

Kirk drew a breath and said bleakly, “Warp nine.”

The pain behind Kirk’s words and tone were suddenly obvious, and called to the compassionate healer. This confrontation with his captain and friend made no sense. McCoy’s eyes softened. He reached out to gently touch Kirk’s arm, feeling the tenseness beneath the gold velour, and steered them both towards his own private office.

“Jim, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me, to talk to you like that. I know you did your best.” The blue eyes sincerely offered an apology and reassurance. “I guess it was…well, the magnitude of it all. We’ve been coming across one and two man freighters, and then…this passenger ship. It’s hard to believe, two hundred people.”

The captain sagged against the wall of the office and surveyed his friend wearily. “There were children there, too, Bones. We got part of their distress call, and they kept saying there were children on board.”

McCoy placed one hand over his eyes and leaned heavily on his desk. “Oh, God.”

Kirk’s voice was very steady. “There wasn’t anything I could do. Really. I only wish there had been.”

They looked at one another in silence for the space of several heartbeats, then McCoy rubbed one hand tiredly over his face. “I’m sorry, Jim,” he repeated. “I know if there had been a way, you would have found it. There just wasn’t anything else you could do. And I was just taking my own frustrations out on you. I’ve lost two of the prisoners, and some of the others don’t look too good. What I know about Orion physiology would fit on the head of a pin. It’s so damned frustrating. I shouldn’t take my failures out on you.”

Now that anger and accusation no longer sizzled in the air between them, it was easy for Kirk to understand what had prompted McCoy’s angry words, and to feel compassion for his friend. Bones worked so hard; each life’s struggle was a personal one for him. Kirk knew the physician ached over his own helplessness, just as he had on the bridge. He also saw the opening that would show Bones he understood and cared. He said slowly, emphasizing every word from his slouched position against the bulkhead, “No, but I know you did your best, and there wasn’t anything else you could do.”

McCoy smiled a slow, wide, grateful smile as he recognized his own words. “Oh, get out of here, you fraud. You’re not supposed to practice psychiatry without a license. That’s my job, remember?”

“Sure, Bones,” Kirk straightened, “just as soon as we both become as infallible as we’d like to be.”

“Touché” the doctor muttered and the two friends shared a moment of understanding. But duty called to both of them, and Kirk reached over to the side of the desk to flick on the intercom. Spock’s face appeared on the display.

“Spock here.”

“How’s it look on the Orion ship, Spock?”

“The ship is quiescent, Captain. Thirty-two minutes have elapsed since last beam-over. I have an Engineering team standing by.

“Good. Have them wait for me. I’ll…report in from over there.”

McCoy had been busily examining one of the prisoner’s medical charts. At the captain’s last words, his eyes flew to the man seated on the other side of the desk. The tone he had used had been the smallest bit hesitant, not at all like the confident orders Kirk usually gave.

Kirk was oblivious to the doctor’s scrutiny. His eyes were fixed on the image before him.

“Jim, it is not necessary for you to beam aboard the Orion ship.”

Jim. In public, Spock had carefully called him only “Captain” since the acknowledgement of their passions. It was part of the formality that had sprung up between them, a barrier erected between their duty-bound and their private lives. Now the name was a reminder of their new relationship here in the light of day and duty, and the first step Spock was taking beyond that barrier.

Kirk knew a simple answer would not suffice, nor would an assertion of his authority be fair to the man who was now his lover as well as his subordinate. He could tell from the intent look on his face that Spock was asking for more, attempting to define for the first time the boundaries of this new life they were leading together. Kirk suspected that his friend was dealing with a number of unfamiliar, unsettling emotions, and that this conversation was an attempt to subdue them, or put them in some logical perspective that Spock could deal with.

Kirk leaned back in his chair and suppressed a sigh. This talk had been inevitable, but there had only ever been one answer to the question and he had the feeling they both already knew it. He spoke softly, persuasively.

“Spock, I know it’s not necessary. Not much is necessary for me to do except sit in the center seat. But I never have just done that before. Do you really want me to change?”

“I do not ask you to change. I ask you to carefully consider the risks and exercise prudence.”

“Is that really what you want me to do? Should I send that Engineering team over without me?”

“There is considerable danger on board a captured ship. Should you expose yourself to that danger?” Spock countered with perfect courtesy, but even McCoy eavesdropping with fascination from across the desk could hear the intensity in the normally emotionless voice.

Kirk pursed his lips in frustration, then noisily exhaled. “You know I think I should. Would it be me any other way? Could I face myself in the morning if I changed now? Could you?”

Spock continued to gaze upon the face of his captain for several moments before he dropped his eyes. “No,” he replied with evident resignation. “You could not. Perhaps I could, but I would not care to test that hypothesis.” He looked back up at Kirk and his eyes had softened. “As is frequently the case, your initial assessment of emotional matters is correct. It was undoubtedly illogical for me to comment. You must remain true to your self.”

“And you to your self,” the captain softly reminded. “I don’t want it any other way. I have a feeling we may have this conversation again.”

“Perhaps. It is illogical to speculate on the future with no data.” The shift to efficient first officer had been accomplished seamlessly. “I will await your report from the Orion ship. Spock out.”

The screen went blank, and Kirk stared at it sightlessly for a few moments. Then his eyes slowly lifted to encounter McCoy’s piercing gaze. The captain flushed.

Kirk gestured awkwardly to the intercom. “He worries sometimes.”

“Uh huh. Yeah. I know. Me, too.”

There was an awkward silence. Then Kirk slapped his hands on the desk and said too heartily, “They’re waiting for me at the transporter. Gotta go.” He beat a hasty retreat.

A frustrated McCoy was left with yet another set of mysteries to add to his growing list. Among other things, why should Spock have to face Jim in the mornings?

The silence on the Orion ship was deafening. Kirk stalked the empty corridors, examined the cramped, empty rooms, surveyed the quiet bridge. He found himself wondering which of the many bunks in the communal sleeping rooms belonged to the twenty prisoners who had been lost in the beam, then angrily brushed the thought away. The Orions did not deserve his pity, and he was perplexed at himself when he found himself giving it anyway, against his conscious will.

Scotty and his crew were enthusiastically pulling apart the phaser relays and couplings, another group under Dawson’s command had been sent momentarily to the bridge and then to the main engine housing. It was a bit galling to think the bridge was so unimportant to their understanding of the Orion’s new technical capabilities, but without life in the nerve center it held no secrets.

Abruptly Kirk moved to what passed for a turbolift, and pushed the button for the Engineering room. No voice commands here, even if he had spoken some Orionese. He had completed his melancholy survey of the enemy stronghold and was unsure of what it had gained him. Time to check in with Scotty and return to the _Enterprise_ to interrogate the prisoners.

“Scotty?” he called out into the cavernous chamber.

“Up here, Captain,” directed him up a ladder and down a narrow ill-lit tunnel to a concealed area crammed with control panels. Most of them were now dismantled and hanging obscenely in disarray.

Kirk surveyed the area with satisfaction. “I can see you’ve already done a lot.”

“Aye, sir. I’ve sent Shinswani and Richardson back with two big batches of components. Just those should give us plenty to work on for days. An’ of course we copied their computer memory right away.”

“Good, Scotty. Any word from Dawson’s team?”

“They’re still doin’ an initial survey. Those engines are big, almost as big as ours, and it’ll take some time to get into their innards.”

“Okay. Keep up the good work. Don’t push yourself too long, Scotty. I know you want to understand all this, but pulling a triple shift won’t do you any good.” His own fatigue was starting to catch up. He doubted that he and Spock had slept even two hours before the red alert had sounded. And he’d had virtually no sleep the night before, working on the implementation of Orion Plan A, and conferring with Uhura about the jamming problem.

“Aye, sir, I hear ya. But before we have ta go on with our patrol, I want to get all we kin from her. Who’s ta say when we get this chance again?”

Kirk nodded. “I’m beaming back to the _Enterprise_. Let us know if you need more personnel.” He reached for his communicator, but before he could complete the gesture, he felt the familiar tingle of the transporter beam start to take him. “What the….” His eyes flew to Scotty’s to encounter a face as surprised as his.

“…hell?” The sentence was completed as he materialized in the _Enterprise’s_ main transporter room. Six other confused men and women surrounded him, including Scotty; one of them was in the act of dropping a wrench that clanged loudly on the floor.

Kirk strode over to the intercom on the console.

“Bridge, Kirk here. What the hell was that all about? I gave no order to….” The _Enterprise_ gave a massive lurch to one side, and Kirk had to hold on hard to the console to stay upright. The artificial gravity flicked off, then on, off, then on again; nausea claimed him as his stomach protested. Then the ship steadied, gave two more smaller shudders, and righted itself with the gravity apparently back to normal. The others who had been transported with him had landed in a haphazard heap against one wall of the room.

Kirk returned his attention to the intercom. “Bridge, are we under attack? What was that?”

Spook’s reassuringly calm tones answered immediately. “That, Captain, was the Orion ship self-destructing. We were struck by a considerable portion of the debris.”

Kirk swallowed hard. There had been over thirty of his men and women on that ship. “Spock,” he near whispered, “did we get everybody off safely?”

“Affirmative.” Kirk grabbed at the console in relief and listened to the rest of the report with closed eyes. “I suspected such an occurrence might take place and had transporter rooms standing by and locked on all personnel. When energy levels shifted, I took the liberty of ordering beam over.” 

Kirk opened his eyes and stared at the intercom, imagining instead the face of the man he could always depend upon. “Thank God for your suspicions, Mister Spock.” His voice lowered. “I think I owe you one.”

“Affirmative. I look forward to the collection of the debt.”

Kirk did a double take. Could Spock have just said what he thought he did? With a small smile Kirk growled, “We’ll have to see about that, Mister.” Something inside of him sang. But he still had questions. “Any damage to the _Enterprise_?”

“Negative. Reports coming in indicate negligible damage.”

“Good. Spock, how did the ship explode? Do you think one of us did it, accidentally?”

“Insufficient data to provide a conclusive answer, Captain,” came the prompt reply. “However,” Kirk could visualize Spock seating himself at the science station and settling in for one of his lectures, “you must remember that the Orions have a culture considerably different from our own, from any of the races joined in the Federation. We cannot expect their responses or motivations to parallel ours. Their casual use of violence and slaves proves their differences, as well as their inability to work together until recently. I reasoned that their new hierarchy, whatever it may be, may manifest the same emotional instability and inherent distrust of others that we have witnessed in the few representatives of Orion culture the Federation has met. Could our captured captain have been monitored from afar, or possibly missed a check-in time, and in effect have triggered the detonation?”

Kirk pondered. It was possible. Along with several other scenarios. “We may never know, Spock. I’ll ask during the interrogation, but I doubt we’ll get any answers. If I’m needed, that’s where I’ll be, with the prisoners. Kirk out.”

Scotty was at his elbow. “Sir, we’ll be starting work on the components we have, and the computer record if Mister Spock has any of it ready.”

“Fine, Scotty. Let me know if you come to any conclusions. Starfleet would definitely like to know how the Orions have suddenly become so capable.”

“Aye, sir. From the looks of that misbegotten excuse for a ship that just blew up, it couldn’t be the Orions themselves. Put together with spit and string, despite their fine weapons. My Aunt Matilda knows more about engineering and design than whoever made that tub.”

Hours later, Kirk wearily admitted that any information they would receive wouldn’t be coming from the prisoners. Verifier scans didn’t help much when a prisoner uttered only apparently untranslatable obscenities, and truth drug seemed to have little effect on the alien physiology. To a being, the Orions were surly and suspicious and prone to sudden violence when their captors’ attention strayed. A serious incident had happened only once, but Kirk had a bruised forearm and damaged pride as a result. Now each prisoner was bound to a chair during questioning and supervised by three security guards. If his caution appeared excessive, Kirk did not care. The Orion capacity for violence controlled was well-documented in their slaving empire; now their capacity for violence uncontrolled was evident in their wild eyes, frenzied movements, and spat-out declarations of hate. The officers were much worse than the crew, and Kirk was heartily sick of it. More than once Security had been forced to stun a whole cell of prisoners who fought amongst themselves. And Kirk’s prediction of suicide attempts had come true of the officers. They were each now separately quartered and guarded. All of it strained the capacity of the _Enterprise_ ; she had never been designed as a prison ship.

So Kirk put out a call to Starfleet Command, sketching out events and requesting either relief from their patrol or another ship to take on the Orions. A starbase might have methods of interrogation that would be fruitful with the recalcitrant prisoners.

The knowledge that it would take at least a day and a half for a reply to his message did nothing to cheer him. With resignation he looked up as the door to the interrogation room opened, and yet another Orion was escorted in. His better sense kicked in, and he waved to the burly Security lieutenant, “No, Ki, take him back. I’ve had enough. He’ll keep.” As Ki turned to go, Kirk added, “Tell Commander Giotto I’ll confer with him tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir, but Mr. Giotto turned in an hour ago. It’s Lieutenant Taylor who’s interrogating in the other room now, Captain.”

Kirk was startled for a moment, then nodded ruefully. Giotto was undoubtedly showing more judgment than he had.

It was just past his normal dinner hour, and Kirk detoured to the mess hall before checking in with the bridge. Spock was there, finishing up his customary soup and salad.

“Who’s upstairs?” Kirk queried, as he slid into the empty seat across from his second-in-command.

“Lieutenant Uhura currently has the con.” At Kirk’s questioning look, Spock continued, “There is no need for Commander Scott, you or me to continue on duty. We all require rest, and there is no emergency now. The Orions and their secrets will be better understood from a fresh perspective. And Lieutenant Uhura is more than capable of command.”

“I’m not arguing, Spock,” Kirk said after swallowing. “I don’t feel very capable myself right now. It’s been one hell of a day. Or days, or whatever.”

“Indeed. I had intended to locate you after my meal and suggest you retire.”

“Oh, you were, huh?” The captain grinned across the table.

Spock was clearly exasperated. “Jim, that is no more than I have done any time in the past two years as a part of my duties as your first officer. There is no need for you to react in such a way to the innocent exercise of my responsibilities.”

“No need? But this is a little bit different, isn’t it?” At Spock’s continuing silence, he prodded, “Oh, come on, Spock, don’t disappoint me.”

The Vulcan allowed a small smile to cross his lips, but dropped his eyes to his lap. “Perhaps, a bit different.”

Kirk was more than content with that. He ate the rest of his meal in companionable silence, with Spock sitting patiently across from him, who seemed to sense his captain’s need for peace and quiet after the long day of interrogations.

“Let’s go,” Kirk said, and led the way to deck five quarters

Their silent journey down the corridors reminded Kirk of their trip to his cabin their first time more than two weeks ago. But this time when the door slid shut behind them, there was no hesitation as Spock took him in his arms and held tight. “Jim,” he murmured into the golden hair, and he raised his hand to caress its softness. Kirk allowed himself to relax against the Vulcan warmth with a sigh. They held each other for a minute, then Spock gently grasped Kirk’s forearms and pushed him away. “Jim, you need your sleep. I will leave you.”

“No, don’t go, Spock.” The smile he gave was wistful. “I admit that I’m tired, but couldn’t you stay anyway?” At the Vulcan’s doubting look, he explained, “Just to sleep with me. I’d really like that.”

Spock ducked his head as if embarrassed, then asked with wonder, “You wish me to share your bed, even without physical consummation?”

Kirk pulled his friend into a close embrace and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “You bet I do, Mister. That’s part of what love is all about, you know. Not just sex, but sharing. I want to share things with you, I’d like to share tonight with you,” then with a wicked gleam, “even if I do have to put up with your snoring.”

“Vulcans do not snore,” Spock replied with great stateliness, but he untangled himself from their embrace and moved to the side of the bed that had become his.

As they started to undress, Kirk retorted, “Well, Vulcans may not snore, but you certainly do. At least a little.”

Spock did not dignify this comment with a reply, but stalked to the bathroom. Kirk chuckled and continued undressing. From the closet he pulled a blanket that he doubled and spread over Spock’s side, then moved to the bathroom when a very naked Spock emerged and silently climbed into the bed.

Spock had pulled the blankets all the way up to his chin when Kirk came out. He waved the lights down to a soft glow as he found his way to the bed, then slid in and asked, “You warm enough?”

“Yes.”

They were both on their backs, arms just touching in the narrow bed, and Kirk was thinking of rolling over to pillow his head on Spock’s shoulder when he felt a warm hand blindly groping for his. Their fingers touched and entwined, and they lay like that for a while.

Kirk’s voice broke the silence. “This is nice.”

“Indeed.”

“See what I mean about sharing?”

Fingers tightened about his. “I believe you have taught me a most effective object lesson.”

Silence again, but after a while Kirk’s thumb started to circle against the back of Spock’s hand. “Want to do this again sometime?”

“That would be most agreeable.”

Silence again. A deep breath. “Want to do this all the time? I mean,” knowing Spock’s penchant for literalness, “at the end of every shift. When we can. Want to?” Where had the words come from? He had thought to wait before speaking of any of this to Spock. But the words were there, demanding to be spoken. It was what he wanted to say. His thumb stilled its movement.

Spock had stopped breathing. His chest was frozen for a moment upon an inhalation; Kirk waited for the resumption of the regular up and down motion. He could feel Spock’s heat where their fingers were caught between their bodies.

Spock seemed unable to speak, and in the dim lighting Kirk couldn’t see his expression well. He fumbled for more words. “I didn’t express that very well, did P What I meant to say, Spock, is….” Kirk hitched up onto his side, waving the lights up a bit, supporting himself on one elbow so that his face was almost suspended over Spock’s. They locked eyes. It was so incredibly easy to look within the brown depths.

Kirk whispered, “I want a lot from this relationship, Spock. I want it all. Everything. I want us to be permanent. Me here for you and you here for me, the way it’s always been between us, only more so.” He caught up the unresisting hand, suddenly impassioned. “We could do it. It’s logical, Spock. The two of us together, the way it’s been from the very beginning. It’s logical.”

The feelings had been rehearsed deep within his soul, perhaps for three years, maybe just for weeks. Now they seemed to well up from within the innermost part of him, and an incredible feeling of rightness, of completion settled over Kirk. Or was it deja vu, as if his mind had already lived this scene a thousand times over? The essential part of him needed to connect with the part of his world that made him whole, and he felt tremendously satisfied that he had taken the step that would bring him completion. He needed Spock, yearned for Spock, required Spock.

There was a long silence. The intent look on Kirk’s face began to change, as he realized the immediate “yes!” he’d been expecting was not forthcoming. Had Spock not understood what he was saying?

Kirk made to draw his hand away, but the movement broke Spock’s spell of paralysis. Strong fingers tightened over his.

“Jim…,” Spock’s voice sounded hoarse, as if rusty from long disuse. “Are…are you suggesting…a mu…, a…mutual commitment,” Spock positively stumbled over the words, “between us?” But it wasn’t really hoarseness, it was wonder, and profound relief, and burgeoning joy that an expanding soul could not contain. Spock’s voice shook with every word he spoke, and his fingers tightened against Jim’s until there was pain.

Kirk didn’t feel the pain, he only saw the brightness in Spock’s eyes, heard the joy in his disbelieving words, and felt the body next to his start to tremble. Kirk wrapped his arms about the shaking form and maneuvered himself so that Spock’s face was buried in his neck. 

His voice was rough. “Of course that’s what I meant, my precious friend. Did you honestly think that I would start just an affair with you? Something that would hurt you so much? I could never hurt you like that. Never! After all,” he drew his head away from the soft hair and pushed Spock’s head up with a finger under his chin until they were looking at each other, “you are my best friend.”

“As you are mine.” Spock’s reply came promptly, if more softly than Kirk had ever heard the deep voice before. The brown eyes were glistening in the subdued light, and no one, no one had ever looked more appealing to Kirk than Spock did now. He was totally powerless to resist the impulse to slowly lean down to his lover and kiss him.

Spock’s arms came around him during the kiss, and Kirk could feel that he was still trembling. Spock’s hand went up to entwine in his hair, and Kirk found himself pulled down to rest on the pillow next to his lover. Spock’s expression was very serious.

“You must know that I am pleased with you, my t’hy’la. So pleased. So very, very pleased.” The long fingers caressed the golden strands, then moved to lightly touch an eyebrow, down one cheek, little touches of wonder and restraint. Finally the hand settled on the back of a sturdy neck, and Kirk nestled back against the possession of the warm fingers. They gazed into each other’s eyes, wanting to pull essence from sight alone. Kirk felt as if he could easily stay and stare into Spock’s eyes for…for a very long time.

And yet, and yet, there was something hooded growing in the warmth of the brown eyes, and after a few moments Spock slowly withdrew an infinitesimal space from their silent communion. It was only the smallest of movements, barely measurable, but Kirk felt it like a chasm opening up between them.

“But….” he prompted, needing the whole truth, and wishing he could ignore it.

Spock shook his head. It made a rustling sound against the pillow. “We are not being very logical.” 

“Since when did love require logic?”

Spock suddenly shook all over his body. Then, abruptly, he pulled himself to a sitting position, his legs over the side of the bed and his back now to Kirk. His head was bowed. “Since one of us…is Vulcan.”

Kirk was startled by the abrupt transition. He stared at Spock’s back, glistening just a little bit in the dim light. He could clearly see the fingers clutching tightly into flesh as Spock wrapped his arms about himself, and the way the tips pressed deep into skin. He saw the chest move up as Spock breathed, and then watched it move down as he exhaled. Kirk knew he was concentrating on the small details to distract himself from the confusion that threatened to overwhelm him. What did Spock mean?

Suddenly the sight before him was incredibly unreal. What was he doing with a naked man in his bed? What had he just done, proposing to join his life with someone, anyone else? A man? An alien? Who was responsible for these rash acts that would change his life forever? He felt panic overtake him for just a moment, stilling his heart and clutching his throat tight. And then, while he was still watching the alabaster back so intently, he saw a fine tremor shake his friend’s body, and Spock shivered. Spock was cold. The universe righted itself, and suddenly all the questions were answered. Unfamiliar territory became just another aspect of his own soul.

Kirk reached down to the blanket that had been pushed aside to the foot of the bed. He gathered it up and gently placed it over his Vulcan’s shoulders. Gently, tenderly, he tucked it around, carefully arranging it to cover as much of the shivering body as possible. And finally, he scooted up behind Spock on the bed and wrapped his arms around him. His head found a comfortable resting place on Spock’s shoulder, after he had dropped a few heart-felt kisses on the strong neck.

“So tell me, how do we make our love…logical for you?”

Kirk wished he did not have to hear the quiet bitterness in his lover’s voice. “I do not know if it is possible. I do not even know if I truly comprehend what ‘love’ is. Jim.” Suddenly Spock twisted within Kirk’s embrace and grabbed at his hands when they were facing each other. The limbs felt ice cold.

“It would be illogical for us to ignore the differences between us. This is…difficult for me. Much more so than I had anticipated. I had thought, hoped it would merely be a matter of deciding that I wished to pursue this course of action with you. But it is not that simple. As much as I treasure what is occurring between us, I am still so unused to the emotions you provoke. I attempt to control them and I become rigid and withdrawn. I attempt to express them, and I produce an excessively emotional display. Do you not see?” His voice was desperate, his eyes haunted. “There is no place within me for this. I do not know what to do with all that you are to me. And I do not know if I will ever be able to change.”

Spock took a deep breath that ended on an almost-sob. “It is exactly as I have feared. I yearn for you, Jim, I long to experience closeness with you in both the human and the Vulcan ways, body to body and mind to mind. But that very longing is a wild emotion over which I have no control. You cause me to experience all the emotions of my mother’s race, but the lessons of my Vulcan father are all I have to deal with them, and those lessons have proven…inadequate.” Spock shook his head, sadly, his eyes now downcast. “I am not currently in any position to be making plans for the future.”

Kirk’s fingers tightened, he hoped in reassurance, and he wondered at how very little pain he felt at what was, in essence, a rejection. But it didn’t really seem to matter, not compared to all that Spock had just revealed. His attention was focused on Spock, and the very real pain his friend was feeling and had apparently been hiding from him.

He started slowly, cautiously. The hands within his were still clammy and cold. “Then let’s forget about the future, at least for now. Let’s concentrate on the present, and on how we can help you. I…I knew that you were having a difficult time, assimilating all of this. Us. But I also thought you wanted our new relationship to continue. That you wanted me as much as I want you. Is that right?” He knew it was, but Kirk wanted to start with this most basic indication of trust between them.

Spock lifted straining eyes to his. He seemed a little more composed. “All of these conjectures of yours are true. I do wish to pursue an intimate relationship with you. And I will do so.” Kirk expected him to add, “If that is your wish also,” it would have been so like Spock, but the fierceness in his friend’s voice was evidence of a granite and single-minded determination. “But because of my current, inner turmoil, I cannot predict the success of our efforts.”

“Hey,” Kirk said softly, “give us a chance. We’re only just beginning.”

Spock seemed to settle even more into himself with the reassuring words. Kirk could actually see the brain working, the control slipping over the austere features. “You are correct. It is illogical to forecast the outcome of an event when all variable factors have not yet been included in the defining equation.” He sounded just like the Vulcan Kirk worked with every day on the bridge.

Kirk quirked an eyebrow. “Would you consider me a variable factor?”

A quick nod from his friend. “Affirmative. It was foolish of me to have attempted to exclude you from my difficulties. I am…,” now there was a shy smile in the dark eyes, “still unused to the intricacies of an intimate relationship.”

Kirk felt a wonderful sinking sensation at the emotion so displayed for him, and couldn’t help but smile in return, before saying seriously, “I’m no expert, but one thing I do know. We can’t keep our problems to ourselves. You’ve got to talk to me, Spock, and tell me what you feel. You can start by explaining a little bit more about what the problem is now.”

Spock withdrew his hands from Kirk’s and turned to face the bulkhead. The light seemed to create a penumbra about his profile as he obviously thought deeply and struggled to find words. “It is not that I resist doing so, Jim. I would tell you if I could. I cannot seem to find the words to adequately explain the turmoil within me. I…struggle to accept the…joy you have brought into my life, and I fear to be overwhelmed by the intensity of that emotion. So I attempt to control by denying the emotion, and that state is even less satisfactory.”

The words were less than illuminating. Kirk ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t really understand what you’re going through, do I? Nobody does. I don’t understand what it’s like to live like you have, divided, always struggling to reconcile two halves of a whole. Now, here I’ve come and made it so much harder for you.” There was real regret in his voice.

“I would not change what has happened to us.” Spock turned to him fiercely. “If I can somehow learn to accept, then the reward will be worth my pain, will it not?”

“Worth it, and more,” Kirk affirmed. “Together…let me help you, Spock.” He was suddenly resolute. “Help me find a way to help you.”

“I do not know what you can possibly do, t’hy’la, except to continue as you are. I would very much like to continue to share with you, as we have been doing.” He seemed suddenly shy. “It…provides a reason….”

Kirk gave him a warm smile. “I don’t think I could stop now, do you?” His hand came up to rest lightly on Spock’s shoulder. “You still feel cold. Come on, let’s at least get comfortable.”

Moments later Kirk was leaning back against pillows, half propped against the headboard. Spock, still wrapped up in the blanket, was curled at his side, his head nestled within the curve of Kirk’s neck. Kirk’s hand found its way beneath the cocoon, to trace abstract, comforting patterns against the warm back.

They lay in silence for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms. Finally Kirk spoke.

“You know, I’ve got some self-doubts too. Number one, whether I can be faithful in a committed relationship. That didn’t used to be a problem, when I was younger, but now….” His voice trailed off. His hand had stopped its circular motion and now lay gently against Spock’s back. The words did not come easily. Kirk was forcing himself to be honest, as Spock had been honest with him. No romantic, falsely reassuring words would do for his logical Vulcan. “It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted to be faithful to someone, Spock. And you know my history, lately. Not very edifying. I can make you all the promises in the galaxy, but only time will really show either of us that I can do it. I…hate to expose you to that uncertainty, but it’s really all I have to offer.”

“I will take what you offer. You have always been a most determined man, Jim. You invariably achieve what you strive for.” Spock was giving him all the confidence that he denied himself.

Kirk’s arms tightened. He was a little bit awed at Spock’s faith, when his own self-certainty was faint. “I’ll strive for you, Spock,” he promised. “I’m not going to give up on us.”

“That is reassuring,” a calm voice returned, muffled from where it rested against Kirk’s chest.

Silence again, then Spock pulled his head back and up until he also rested on the pillow. He looked seriously at his bedmate. “If we are using this time to express doubts, perhaps I should also offer another.” At Kirk’s encouraging nod he continued. “You are an emotional being. A…joining such as you are suggesting is much more than just the physical. It is an intimacy of….”

“Of the soul,” Kirk supplied, watching his lover carefully.

“Yes,” Spock said, his voice deepening, “Of the soul. Even without a Vulcan bonding, I am aware that humans can achieve great intimacy with one another. You have such emotional needs, Jim, some of which I do not even comprehend. I am unsure that I can give what you need.”

“Oh, Spock,” Kirk said, and ran a finger down a thin cheek. “Don’t you understand? How could we ever have come to this if we weren’t already giving each other what we needed? We’ve found something in each other that we haven’t found in anyone else. I don’t think you have to worry about me and my ‘needs’. You’ve been answering to them for three years now.”

Spock looked doubtful. “Perhaps what you say is true, but I have never lived with anyone intimately before, much less a human, and I have doubts….”

Kirk silenced the doubts by leaning forward for a kiss. Spock softened his lips and readily returned it, afterwards scooting forward against the strong body of his lover with a sigh. Kirk’s hand was caressing his back through the blanket again.

“I’m surprised that we’re talking like this now, aren’t you? I thought we’d wait a while before even considering our future together. I just couldn’t wait tonight. Somehow, all this business with the Orions, that ship blowing up with the children on it….” His voice trailed off, his gaze becoming an unfocused stare.

Spock’s voice was gentle, reassuring. “You needed an affirmation of life. To be reassured about…what was important to you, in order to counteract the sorrow brought on by the deaths.”

Kirk blinked hard, then pulled back to look at the man in his arms. “Yes. I think you’re right.” Then, realizing with a little smile, “How could you say you don’t understand my emotional needs?”

Spock opened his mouth to reply, but could not think of anything to say. He closed his mouth while Kirk watched him knowingly.

“See what I mean?” They just stared at one another for a moment, Kirk with that little smile on his face, Spock devouring the face of the man who had given him such life. Then determination crossed Kirk’s face.

“I want to tell you something, Spock. Something I haven’t told anybody else. Maybe you’ll understand how much you mean to me then.”

“T’hy’la, I do not need convincing.”

Kirk gave him a little shake. “Just listen,” he said, and settled back for an apparent lengthy recital.

“You know that my father died when I was just ten?” Spock nodded. “It was a hard thing for me to accept. I’d always idolized him. Never saw as much of him as I wanted to. It was so hard for me to accept that he’d never come back. That whole summer is just a blur for me, I don’t remember much about it except crying at night and feeling Mom’s arms around me sometimes. I don’t even remember Sam.”

He paused, and Spock wondered how this recital of Jim’s childhood pain could possibly connect with their current situation. But he did not prod; he was content to listen to Jim’s voice.

“The one thing I do remember is that I had this dream. At first, that’s exactly what it was, a dream. Where everything was perfect, nothing hurt, everything was just the way a ten-year-old boy would want it to be. Something in it made it a childhood paradise. I can still remember waking up after having that dream. I felt so good, and after being as miserable as I had been, it was strange feeling that way. So I remembered it.”

“And the next time I had a fight with Sam, or maybe Mom sent me to my room, I don’t know which, I remembered my dream. It became my retreat. Whenever I felt really sad, or upset with something I couldn’t handle on my own, I’d just…dream up this fantasy to give myself some peace. It helped me cope with Dad’s death, and afterwards, I just…sort of kept it around.”

For the first time since he’d started, Kirk glanced at his bed-companion. Spock was observing him with a most typically Spockian raised eyebrow. It was the most normal looking his friend had been since the tears he’d shed, and Kirk was pleased. He definitely had Spock’s attention.

“Are you thinking that this doesn’t sound too psychologically healthy? Me too. ‘Cause this escape of mine was still with me when I applied to Starfleet Academy. Not that I lost myself in daydreams or anything. I’d think about it sometimes, like a project I was trying to get perfect. I was scared silly that the Academy’d declare me medically unfit because of my innocent little dream. I would have kept quiet about it if I could have, but you know their methods. They’d have caught it anyway.”

Kirk seemed to expect a comment, so Spock supplied, “And what did the psychologist say?”

A short laugh. “That everybody needed a coping mechanism, and mine seemed to be more pleasant than most. Said I was too solidly grounded in reality to let myself get lost in my ‘crutch’.” Kirk shifted a little bit higher against the pillows and examined one shadowed corner of the ceiling. “She was right, of course. The older I got, the less important that little fantasy world became. But it’s still with me, Spock. Sometimes, right before I drift off to sleep, when you don’t really have control of your thoughts, I find myself there. When things have been really rough on the ship, I sometimes consciously yearn for it.”

It was impossible for Spock to contain his curiosity any longer. He felt privileged to be granted this glimpse into his lover’s private life, and assumed that it was this most personal of revelations that was intended to show Jim’s trust of him. “And what is in this fantasy of yours, Jim?”

Kirk glanced over at Spock, then resumed his inspection of the ceiling. “It changes. It’s a lot different now than it was when I was ten. Back then it was a carnival, with all the cotton candy a kid could eat, guaranteed not to make him sick. Now,” Kirk pushed back against the pillows, “it’s a brand new world. Absolutely beautiful. Blue sky. Gorgeous, big white clouds,” Kirk’s hands described arcs in the air before him, “the kind we used to get in Iowa on a summer day when I was out by the creek. And on the horizon, mountains, the kind you never saw in Iowa. More like what’s on Arcturus 4. These huge towering mountains reaching up to the sky. I used to think about mountains a lot, before I got the chance to see them. That, and the ocean.

“Anyway, it’s afternoon on this planet. There are no duties, no hassles, no worries. There’s all the time in the universe. And most of all, there’s the sun. A big bright sun that just dominates the sky and bathes everything with this gorgeous yellow light. It covers the trees, the grass, everything is sparkling with little drops of sunlight. And the creek,” Kirk turned to look quickly at Spock, “did I mention there was a creek?”

“Knowing your penchant for water, I had assumed it,” Spock returned dryly.

“There’s a creek,” Kirk said positively, with a twinkle. “With a line of trees all along it.” He subsided back against the pillow. “But the sun penetrates through the leaves, and you can almost see the rays of sunlight sizzle against the water. And the motes of dust dancing in the air, so bright.” He sighed, a happy sigh. “It’s so peaceful there, Spock. So easy to live there, with none of the pressures that we live with, every day.”

Kirk suddenly rolled over onto his side, and looked intently at his lover. “Do you know what’s most important about that world, Spock?”

Here was the revelation, the important information that Jim had gone to considerable trouble to define. “What is that, Jim?” Spock answered softly, eyes searching the determined face.

“In all the different worlds I’ve ever had for this fantasy, even the early ones, I’ve always been alone. Even when Dad died. Sam wasn’t ever with me, Dad wasn’t. Not my best friend Dan from Riverside. I was always alone. Until one night, about…three months after our trip to Vulcan.” Kirk said the last delicately, waiting for a reaction from Spock. But the brown eyes remained bright, waiting patiently for whatever Kirk had to say.

“I was falling to sleep one night, and suddenly, there you were, in that special world with me. You, my best friend. And there wasn’t a thing wrong with it, but it just felt so right.

“I never questioned it. It must have been when I really started falling in love with you. Now that we’ve become lovers, it’s only better. I see us walking hand in hand through the grass, our bodies drenched with yellow light.” Kirk reached down to grasp one of Spock’s hands. “Do you know, Spock, we’ve always made love at night, in the darkness. I wish I could see you naked in the light. I want to see the sun shine upon your face, as you stand beside the creek and face the mountains, I want to see the sun touch your face so I can see it all, each part.” His hand came up to place loving fingers on Spock’s cheek, up to his temple, across his forehead and down the other side. Each movement was a gentle caress, each touch a symphony that sang all the loving notes Spock had ever heard.

Kirk’s voice was just a whisper. “I want to love you in the full light of day, Spock. I don’t want to hide from you, I don’t want you to hide anything from me. Just two lovers, open to one another in the sunlight. I want to lay next to you in the sunlight, and watch the shadows across the meadow slowly, so slowly,” his hand traced a long line across Spock’s chest, “reach out from the trees. I want to have all time in the universe, that only that place can give us. I want to feel your heart beating beneath my touch,” Kirk’s hand gently lay over the Vulcan heart, “to hear you breathe so calmly in my ear, and know that we have hours and hours more of just laying there, being with each other in all this beauty. I’d love you in the sunlight, and when the shadows finally reached us on the grass, they’d make beautiful patterns on your body. I’d touch you, and kiss you, and try to be a part of you, like the sunlight covering us and the air we are breathing.”

For a moment, the image almost seemed to be real to Spock. He was alone with his beloved, free to love, free to see and be seen, invited where none other had ever been. The planet and its green sylvan spaces called strongly to Spock. To share such a time, such a place with the one who understood his own soul….

But reality intruded. How could he share what he himself did not comprehend? What could he do to change?

“Jim,” he grasped an upper arm and realized that Kirk had been watching him for a reaction while he thought. “Jim,” he repeated, loosening his grip and making the name a caress. He searched the expectant features. “I…do not know what to say.”

“I don’t expect much, Spock. Just…tell me what you feel.” At another time, Kirk might have smiled at his use of McCoy’s favorite word to tease the Vulcan. Now, he looked a bit anxious.

“I feel…honored that you should include me in that world.” Spock was searching for words. They came out stiff and formal, not conveying at all the incredible gratitude and wonder in his heart. He tried again. “I wish….” He paused. Wishing was illogical, and he had so seldom allowed himself to succumb to the human penchant for unreachable desires. Perhaps now was the time to do so.

“I wish,” he again said, deliberately, “to share that place in your heart always. Perhaps, it is a goal towards which we could work, together?”

It was exactly what Kirk wanted to hear. “Yes, Spock, together,” Kirk breathed. They leaned towards each other to seal the promise with a gentle kiss.

As they settled apart after their embrace, Spock spoke again. “You have shown me something very precious to you. I honor you for your courage, and will guard your words within my soul forever.” His words had taken on the cadence of a ritual, and Kirk wondered what ancient Vulcan rite Spock had just invoked.

Spock looked uncertain, then appeared to gather his resolution. “I, too, wish to share with you, if you will consent.”

Kirk realized what he meant right away. “A meld?” he asked hopefully.

Spock nodded. “I find that I cannot express the cause of my distress with words alone. Perhaps because I simply do not understand my own reactions adequately. I wish to show you…. You may not find the experience a pleasant one,” he warned.

“I’ve always enjoyed melding with you, Spock, you know that. I’m not afraid of any part of you. Go ahead.” Kirk settled himself back against the pillow.

Spock flexed his fingers, unnecessarily, and applied the fingertips to Kirk’s face. They had walked these pathways before, Jim’s mind was beckoning him on, all welcome….

It was a harsh landscape. Desert stretched to the horizon. A crimson sun hung in a red sky, its dull light casting an eerie glow on the grey fog that swirled about their bodies. This wasn’t any projection of a human mind. Kirk glanced at Spock. He looked utterly composed, and perhaps a little bit sad. He turned to his captain and said, “This is how it was that first time that we were together.”

A wall began to materialize before them. It was a sturdy edifice, seemingly made of one solid block of rock, covered over with a crusty cement taken from the ochre soil about them. It stretched to the left and right as far as the eye could see. Kirk had the distinct impression that it encircled the world. At least, this world, the world that he was beginning to realize was Spook’s representation of some part of the Vulcan’s inner life.

As he watched, the wall became firmer, the grey wisps of fog began to dissipate. Its absolutely smooth sides ascended to about twelve feet. It seemed to carry a dark sort of menace, as if it were charged with its own force field that could kill with a mere touch. Completely forbidding. Depressing, in a way that could depress a personality, or a life.

The wind began to howl, making a lonely, eerie sound. Kirk shivered, as much from the effect on his soul as from the cold. Unseen icy fingers denied all warmth. How strange, to be so cold on a desert world with the sun shining. Yet not so strange at all, of this were the contradictory world within his friend. Dust began to kick up into their faces, making Kirk blink.

On the other side of the wall, which from their position on a little rise they could see perfectly well, there was movement. First just a few streaks of lightning crackling in the air. Roiling dustballs seemingly lit from within. Then a fireball rolled down from a hill to come crashing towards the wall’s indifferent presence. Kirk braced himself, sure that the wall would disintegrate in a fiery inferno, and wondered if this was meant to represent their physical lovemaking. But the wall didn’t even shake under the onslaught of the fire and light. As the fire ball burst with a tremendous concussion, Kirk covered his ears, but he could not take his eyes off the pyrotechnic display. Next to him, Spock was standing stolidly, seemingly unaffected, while Kirk was fascinated by all he was observing, trying hard to catalog it, trying hard to understand what this was telling him. It was difficult to comprehend. All of this tumult, the noise and the fire and the light, the stark and forbidding landscape, the icy wall that dominated like a monolith grounded in the first seconds of the universe, all of this was Spock….

After the explosion, the light from the fireball was not extinguished, but it shot off into the gray with streaks of energy and wild pulsations of color. The light lived within the air and did not lose its potency. Soon the world beyond the wall was filled with light and color, with vibrancy and life. It glowed and danced a wild, energetic dance. Stark raw color, and searing brilliant heat made Kirk flinch to see it. But it was beautiful, it was lovely, it was compelling in an elemental way. That’s us, thought Kirk dazedly, this is how Spock sees us together. He was awed, for trapped behind that wall was all the beauty and energy of a newborn universe.

While Kirk watched, he saw a vision of Spock approach the wall. At first his friend stood before it quietly, head down, as if he were listening to the vibrant sounds of life coming from the other side. Then he threw his head back, looking up at the lightning bolts and rainbow colors that shot off into the sky. Kirk could clearly see Spock’s face. It had never been so obvious before. Every thought or emotion was reflected in the most-loved features. What Kirk saw there made him want to cry. Spock was anguished. He longed to climb beyond the wall. He wanted to connect with the fire and light beyond it more than he had wanted anything in his life. Life awaited him within the elemental conflagration. But each time he touched the wall, it sizzled, and he jerked his hand back in pain. Three times Spock touched the wall, and each time Kirk winced in sympathy for the blackened fingers that resulted. Spock was not deterred. He scrabbled for footholds on the solid rock, obviously hoping to climb despite the pain it gave him. But the wall was too smooth, and after attempt after attempt, Spock’s image slid down to the ground in defeat. His hands were now bleeding green, his limbs twitching in reaction. Kirk had to reach out a hand to the real Spock next to him to reassure himself.

“Is this, all this pain, what we have done to you, Spock?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No,” Spock said quickly. “We are what is beyond. I myself cause the pain.” He turned back to the wall. “I have tried to find a way….”

The Spock-figure was now standing on a little rise. He could just see over the wall to what lay beyond. The flickering light cast shadows on a face filled with hope and desire, and a fierce resolution undimmed by the bloodied hands.

Kirk had rarely been so filled with a sense of purpose. Regardless of what Spock had said, he was the one who had shown Spock what love and passion could be like, and so it was he who was responsible for the overloaded system that was immobilizing his friend. What could he do? His mind searched through possibilities.

He turned to Spock. “Let me help you,” he said, urgently, and caught up Spock’s hand to bring it to his face. “Can you see what I’m thinking?” Kirk projected his inner vision as strongly as he could.

The wind stopped, the landscape changed utterly. Before them was an absolutely ordinary-looking natural stone wall, looking a bit the worse for wear in spots, about three feet high. Everything else had disappeared except for the light, now peacefully glowing from the other side.

With calm resolution, Kirk walked over to the wall. “This was on our farm in Iowa. Sam and I used to sit on it and watch the moon rise.” He put a hand upon the topmost stone before him, patting its rough surface. “See, just an old wall.” He looked over his shoulder at Spock. “You’ve forgotten one of the first lessons in tactics. Don’t let a problem overwhelm you. Take it one step at a time.” He gave the stone a hard yank.

The aged mortar gave way with a crack. Three of the stones along the topmost row fell to Kirk’s feet, and he felt a charge of electricity rush through him as just a little of the energy flew from beyond the wall towards Spock in a trail of sparks. He felt his body being lifted up, controlled by forces beyond him, as he rushed closer and closer to Spock….

It was simple. It was profound. It was the single most intense experience of Kirk’s life, and unlike any other meld they had ever shared. They floated together in a green flowing place, stripped of everything except what they truly were. The few sparks that had escaped from beyond the wall had accompanied them here, and Kirk watched as Spock joyfully threw his head back while they fell upon him like gentle snowflakes. Deneva, the Tholians, Elea, the memories fell upon him one by one. He looked like a totally abandoned sensualist, drunk with the remembered feelings that now found their way into his receptive soul. When the sparks had all settled themselves upon his naked body, he was covered with a gossamer web of silver strands. He looked magnificent, he looked like an ancient god worshipped for his strength and beauty, for the vitality he found in living life. When he reached out to touch Kirk’s hand, the expression of love and gratitude that was in his eyes was overwhelming.

“You are a magician. A wizard that you can do this for me!” Within the honesty of the meld, where there could be no pretense, Spock threw his head back and laughed.

Their hands clung together hard, Kirk drinking in this undiminished image of his friend with thirsty eyes. Then, just as it had happened during their last meld when Kirk had been trapped in the body of Janice Lester, their clasped hands started to melt together. Only this time, they allowed, they insisted that the blending continue. This time, the motivations behind the joining had been faced and understood. They eagerly reached for more. As their flesh became one in this green glowing world, so too did their feelings, their affections, the love that Spock would not name.

Time lost its meaning after that. Kirk revealed his essence to Spock, then spent another eternity reveling in the subtle shadings of his friend’s soul. The glory of being so totally…cherished…covered him with a memory of love that he would never, ever shed. The glory of being able to pour his own love into a parched soul filled him with exultation. All of Spock’s hidden longings were laid bare and carefully gathered within loving arms; all of Kirk’s desires for love were accepted, and fulfilled by a matching tumultuous heart.

So they loved, each of them splattered in silver and in light, their hands and bodies dipping in and out of the other’s being as they experimented with new dimensions of togetherness. Kirk realized that this meld was so different from other melds he had experienced that they could scarcely be compared. He wondered what world they would create together when all the stones on the old wall were brought down. Would they even be able to withstand the intensity of their combined feelings then? Could the onslaught of all those released feelings be dangerous, and overwhelm them?

But the shared thought was fleeting. The intensity of the _now_ demanded full attention. This wonderful knowledge of each other! All the laughter, all the joy that stood between them could not be contained, but flew off in more sparks that sparkled in the air around them.

But it couldn’t go on forever. The knowledge of their fatigue was suddenly before them, and regretfully they started to pull apart. Spock reached one long-fingered hand to rest purposefully across Kirk’s temple as the light began to fade, and Kirk was just barely able to catch Spock’s intention to give him something. Then they were completely separated, and he was rushing through the air surrounded by light, alone, so very alone….

Kirk came back to an awareness of his own body with gasping suddenness. He was achingly aroused and thrust up once to relieve the pressure. The body covering his was in a similar condition, and their erect cocks brushed together to electric pleasure. Kirk grabbed Spock’s shoulder and fell into a thrusting rhythm that was becoming wonderfully familiar.

“What…happened?” he gasped into a pointed ear already near his lips.

“I attempted…to stimulate…mental…pleasure centers….” Spock groaned quietly as Kirk’s hand slid down his back to cover one slim asscheek.

“You missed,” Kirk panted.

“I know,” Spock gasped.

“I love it…when you don’t know what you’re doing,” Kirk hissed, and bit down hard on the straining body.

“I merely…miscal….” But Spock was unable to continue, as wonderful physical sensations claimed him, and he groaned out his completion in time with the seed spurting from his body. Kirk followed him, and they settled into contented afterglow with bodies still entwined.

After a while Kirk roused himself and halfheartedly swiped at his stomach with a towel from the nightstand. He settled on his side, and touched his bedmate lightly on the shoulder. “Together,” he whispered.

“Together,” Spock echoed.

It was all either of them wanted.


	10. Chapter 10

“What do you mean, you’ve found something strange. What is it?” Early morning testiness colored Kirk’s voice; starship captains disliked being awakened with mysteries more than most men did.

“We’ve been workin’ all night, sir, and what we’ve found…. If ye don’t mind, sir,” Scotty’s hesitant tones came from the intercom Kirk had carefully left on audio only, “‘tis a bit complicated. Culd ye come to briefing room four? I’ll be able to show it to ye there.”

“That important, Scotty?”

“Aye, sir, it ‘tis.”

“Then let’s not wait. Call a meeting now. Get McCoy, Fraser, and Giotto in on this. Ten minutes. And Sulu and Dawson, too.” His hand hovered over the switch. “Oh, and I’ll alert Mister Spock. Kirk out.” He turned to his bedmate, but Spock had already disappeared into the bathroom.

 

*****

 

“…ah just doon’t understand it.” The engineer was clearly frustrated, and had been pacing the length of the briefing room as he attempted to explain his findings to the few senior officers gathered there. Now he stopped, ran his fingers through his hair, and picked up one of the components placed on the table.

“Do ya see here, gentlemen,” and he poked an accusing finger into the offending piece of machinery. “This phaser coupling is a dandy piece of engineering. When it was installed on the _Enterprise_ not eight months ago by the Johnson Combine people, it increased our accessible power by sixteen percent. I was that pleased to have it. And when we stopped at Starbase 15 not three weeks ago, the Johnson man who helped me run a quick check on them told me they were still Starfleet issue only.” He replaced the coupling on the table with a force he usually reserved for a losing poker hand and not a delicate piece of machinery. “But that coupling came nae from the _Enterprise_ , Captain, but from the blasted Orion ship!” Scotty’s outrage was evident.

“Starfleet issue technology on the Orion ship?” Spock questioned with a lifted brow and in a calm tone that deflated the engineer’s blatant emotionalism. “Did you discover any other evidence of stolen technology?”

“Aye, that we did. Remember how we wondered at the Orions’ jamming capability, Mister Spock? I’ve no hard evidence like this coupling here, but the computer tapes on their communications system look suspiciously like our own.” The engineer seated himself emphatically and peered morosely at the assorted hardware before him.

Kirk spoke for the first time. “But that’s all?” His gaze wandered to Lieutenant Dawson when Scotty remained silent. The engineer seemed to be taking the situation as a personal affront.

“That’s all, sir. The rest of the hardware we examined, and the part of the computer tapes which Mister Spock could salvage, were not very impressive. The Orions are easily five, maybe ten years behind us in technology. But the phaser couplings and relays, and the jamming equipment, are clearly state-of-the-art.”

Scotty was eager now to continue his assistant’s explanation. He growled into the table, “And that’s made all the difference to their fightin’ capabilities. They’ve been able to attack our settlements and outposts, destroy freighters, because of those two, wee advances.”

“And the two advances work in tandem to achieve the desired goal of the Orions in a disturbingly logical way.” Spock looked thoughtful.

Sulu thought twice before offering, “Could this be industrial espionage?” It seemed obvious to him, and he looked about the room for reaction.

“Perhaps.” Spock was non-committal. “However, even if the Orions or their operatives had been able to steal the blueprints for the prototypes, they would still have had to manufacture and install the equipment. In the past, this would have been beyond them. They have always scavenged their equipment and technology from other races. I am unaware of a single original Orion design. Yet the timing of the increased attacks argues against them using an outside agent for manufacture. Heightened Orion activity in this sector started more than five months ago. There would simply not have been enough time.”

“I suppose we can rule out the possibility this was just some wild fluke of coincident design?” Kirk calmly directed this inanity at his first officer.

Spock arched an eyebrow. He had attended too many of these conferences over the years to take his captain’s question seriously. “I believe the odds against such an occurrence are so large that you would undoubtedly become agitated to hear me recite them,” he said dryly. Others in the briefing room chuckled and wondered at the unusual humor displayed by the first officer. Attention focused on the Vulcan, and everyone noticed the intent way he was now regarding Kirk. Interest shifted to the captain; Sulu and Dawson actually leaned forward in their seats.

Kirk was decisive. “The Johnson Combine could have easily provided the Orions with what they need.”

“Captain!” Scotty burst out. “Surely you’re not implying that the Johnson Combine is involved in any of this!” Kirk’s apparent accusation, coming on top of the misuse of Scotty’s beloved components, seemed to be too much for the engineer to endure.

“It’s already clear to me that they are involved, Mister Scott.” Kirk was not amused. “It’s their technology and equipment that has been shifting the balance of power in this sector for the past five months. Killing people. Enslaving them. The only question is, why?”

McCoy spoke up for the first time. “What possible reason could they have? I’ve never heard of any scandal attached to the Johnson Combine. Just their unusual loyalty to Earth, and their tendency to only concentrate on drugs beneficial to humans….” His voice trailed off.

Kirk nodded. “Exactly. We already suspect that Wade Johnson had planned to transport some TNT on board the _Enterprise_ from Ag Colony #7. And that TNT was directed just against the non-human members of the crew.”

Spock looked up from where he had been scanning computer records. “Mr. Johnson was the Combine’s Director of Pharmaceutical Research until recently. His last major research project attempted to create a more effective antidote for hallucinogens. Vulcanir Labs marketed one before the Johnson effort was complete.”

McCoy’s eyes widened. “That was the drug I used on both Spock and L’Karandos! It works on a whole range of humanoid species, not just humans, and it really cornered the market. Johnson’s never had a chance against it. But as director of the project, Wade Johnson must have had access to the TNT they were testing.” The doctor looked across the table at the two commanding officers. “You think the project gave Johnson ideas?”

Kirk nodded, and Spock said, “The human bias of the Combine is well-known, Doctor. Undoubtedly, Mr. Johnson was not pleased by the success of Vulcanir Labs.”

McCoy snapped his fingers. “Remember Marla Johnson? She had a fit when she realized you were in command.”

Scotty broke in snappishly. “But how does this connect with the hardware in the Orion ships?” He was pleased to have found a flaw in the frantic reasoning swirling about him. “Why would Johnson’s want to sell hardware to the Orions?”

Kirk regarded him soberly. “For the most obvious reason of all, Scotty. Profits.”

Spock nodded and folded his arms over his chest. “Indeed. The Combine’s most profitable subsidiary is the one that provides munitions and engineering to Starfleet. As the Federation has grown, so has the Combine’s power and influence. However, it is clear that the Federation’s balance of power is shifting. The ship’s new complement is proof of that.”

Kirk took up the train of reasoning. “It’s an old story, Scotty. The Combine likes things the way they were. But the non-human members of the Federation are pressing more insistently for peace, and peace is the one thing that would put a big dent into their profits.”

Giotto spoke up for the first time. His comments were usually to the point. “The new non-human emphasis also hits the Johnson’s emotionally, where their prejudices live. ‘Humans uber alles’, and that sort of bunk.”

“If the fear of losing profits, power, and influence is indeed at the heart of the Johnson Combine, then supplying up-to-date technology to the Orions is quite logical.” Spock was intent on following through. “The Federation is compelled to use Starfleet in its military capacity to defend against the Orions, the non-humans’ call for peace is undermined, and Johnson’s receives more orders for munitions. A most logical course of action, as seen from a paranoid perspective, of course.”

“The TNT just completes the circle.” Kirk sounded satisfied. “The Combine produces the drug, the Orions distribute it, and they both share in the profits. That helps the Orions pay for all the technology they’re getting.”

McCoy put in, “And it explains why there’s been so much more TNT around in the last year or so.”

“You’ve forgotten something!” Scotty was strangely triumphant. It was clear to everyone in the room that he was resisting every deduction made. “If that Johnson freighter we came across was delivering drugs, like ya seem to be implyin’, why was she attacked by the Orions?” He looked pointedly across the table. “Ya couldna explain it then, Mister Spock! How can ya now?”

The first officer was unused to encountering such emotional opposition from the engineer; usually he and the Scotsman shared a quiet affinity through their mutual appreciation of how things worked. Now he was taken back by the virtual attack. He attempted to respond logically nevertheless.

“Upon considerable thought. I believe there is an explanation, Engineer. We must not consider Orion culture as if it were our own. What do we know of them? That they are violent, ruthless, suicidal when their culture requires. Also that they are fiercely independent, and unlikely to form coalitions even among themselves. It is that fact which has made them a less than formidable enemy in the past. However, we now know that a leader of sorts has emerged and fashioned a loose coalition, enough to command loyalty from a majority of their slave raiders, pirates, and other members of the so-called Orion ‘fleet’. It is possible that the ship attacking the _Pride of Europe_ was not allied to the ruling coalition. Alternatively, a commander accustomed to operating independently may have seen the opportunity to reap profits for himself and not the uneasy coalition he professed to serve. I find either of these explanations acceptable and compatible with our reasoning to this point.”

“Well, I do not,” Scotty growled. “It seems more ‘logical’ to me for the Orions to be exactly what they seem, enemies to the Federation, all the Federation.” His tone bordered on the belligerent; both Kirk and McCoy stiffened, and the younger officers looked uncertain. The engineer went on unchecked. “They attacked the _Pride of Europe_ like they attack every other ship they can, and that’s all. Ya doon’t have to be looking for hidden motives, and ‘coalitions’. The truth is plain to see.” He looked about the table, intent on making his point. 

“Suspicions are one thing, but this…poppycock is another! You’re accusing one of the oldest conglomerates in the Federation of treason. That’s what we’re talking about here, gentlemen, treason. Givin’ away Starfleet classified technology and manufacturing illegal drugs is nae just child’s play. I cannae believe what you are sayin’. There are surely other explanations for what we’ve run across, like Mister Sulu’s industrial espionage.” He gestured broadly to the Lieutenant by his side, who looked startled.

“Scotty,” McCoy started reasonably, and leaning across the table towards the agitated man, “nobody said you have to believe anything. We’re just talking here, not accusing anyone in a court of law.” Everyone had been surprised at the Scotsman’s vehemence. The doctor supposed he was over-reacting from lack of sleep. Spock speculated on unsuspected ethnocentric traits, and Kirk wondered about an attachment to engines and mechanical devices that had somehow been transferred to the people and organizations which produced them.

There was a short silence while everyone gathered their thoughts. Scotty glared for a moment, then visibly subsided under McCoy’s ministering words. No one wanted this session to degenerate into acrimony, including the engineer. Aside from Scotty, all felt encouraged by the discussion so far.

Now a self-appointed mediator, McCoy shifted his attention to Spock, who was contemplating the table. “Mister Spock, you did sound like you believed what we’ve been talking about. Do you really?” McCoy expected a carefully hedged explanation of the “illogic” of speculation. He was unprepared for the immediate reply.

“What we have constructed is one possible explanation for the facts at hand. There is, however, very little hard evidence to support our conjectures, and I would be hesitant to make accusations without further thought and additional indications of criminal activity. But the scenario we have discussed appears to be a logical explanation which I would accept as a working hypothesis at this time.”

Kirk nodded his support. “I agree. It sounds good, but we have a house of cards here with no foundation. Supposition, conjecture, theory, easy to blow away. We need something more. Any ideas on how to get it?”

“Aye, why doon’t ya just ask the Orions below?” the Scot muttered sarcastically, just loud enough to be heard.

Kirk’s face hardened. “Mister Scott, I have heard and noted your objections. They will be logged. Now, if you can’t contribute anything to solving this mystery, perhaps you’d better…” Kirk paused on the verge of saying “just go get some sleep,” then thought better of it. He couldn’t recall having to reprimand his chief engineer in this way before, and he knew Scotty was under a lot of emotional strain. It would not be wise to exclude him from the inner circle working this problem out, or give him an excuse to stalk from the room in a high dudgeon. So the captain settled for “…just try to listen and keep an open mind.” The words were placating, but the steely glint in Kirk’s eye was unyielding.

The engineer saw it, and realized he did not want a confrontation with his captain. Suddenly, the last forty-eight hours’ exertion caved in on him, and he sagged back against the chair.

“You’re right, Captain. I can’t seem to see very far in this case. I’ll listen.” It was as much of an apology as the captain would get from the stubborn, proud Scotsman, and Kirk was frankly surprised to have received that much.

Without acknowledging Scotty’s words, Kirk returned his attention to the rest of the group. “Any ideas?” he repeated.

Sulu was anxious to make his contribution. “There’s an obvious way. Return to Ag Colony #7. See if the informants who gave us the initial information have learned anything more. If,” he paused, “we could do that without making anyone suspicious of our intentions.”

Kirk and Spock exchanged glances. Out of consideration for Spock’s privacy, Kirk had been careful not to reveal the identity of the informants on the colony. “We have set up another way,” Kirk said slowly. Spock reached for the intercom, and Uhura’s voice answered from the bridge.

“Lieutenant, please report the status of the computer system at the Johnson’s Combine Agricultural Colony #7.”

“No indications of trouble yet, sir.”

Spock clicked the intercom off and turned to Sulu. “Our informants agreed to call for help for their computer system if there were any danger to them or additional information to share. The communications section has been routinely monitoring for messages from the colony since the time of our visit. Since we are patrolling this sector, it would be logical for us to be called upon to provide assistance if needed.”

Kirk looked about. “Anything else?” When no one answered, “Let’s summarize. One, Johnson Combine equipment is in Orion ships. The Johnson’s have both political and economic motives for an alliance with the Orions. Two, the Combine’s emotional bias against non-humans could have been expressed by the attack on the _Enterprise_ with TNT.

“And finally,” Kirk put both hands down flat on the table, “we have probably the weakest link in our reasoning, that attack on the _Pride of Europe_. Scotty’s objection is a valid one that we can’t ignore.” Kirk carefully chose to use the engineer’s nickname. “But assuming the freighter was delivering either drugs or machinery, or both, to the Orions in power ties up a lot of loose ends, and explains Captain Johnson’s strange behavior.

“Now what we’ve done is take these three separate incidents and extracted a common thread, which is the Johnson Combine involvement, and used it to provide a motive in each case. It seems plausible enough to me, but I’m not ready to take it to Starfleet Command yet. We do need more.”

He looked about the room, but no one had anything more to offer. “All right then, let’s break now and go get some breakfast, or whatever, and think about what we’ve come up with here. We’ll meet again later. Let me know if you get any bright ideas.”

The group began to break up. Scotty and Dawson were out first, the Scot looking determinedly normal. Spock worked with the computer for a moment, ensuring the proper processing of the recording of the meeting, then rose to go.

“No, Spock, wait a minute,” Kirk called softly. The Vulcan looked at him with a raised brow, but obligingly settled back down in his seat.

Kirk waited until everyone else had exited the room before he turned his chair so he was sitting sideways from the table, and reached for Spock’s hands. They came willingly into his.

They regarded each other silently for a moment. A little smile started to play around Kirk’s mouth, and the skin around his eyes was crinkling in his effort to restrain a full-blown grin. Spock looked at his captain fondly, squeezed their joined hands once and moved to pull away. He arched his eyebrow again when Kirk maintained his hold and started to caress his palm with one thumb.

The smile slowly faded from Kirk’s face, to be replaced by a serious, very intent gaze.

“We haven’t had a chance to talk yet. I just can’t go through the day pretending that last night was just an ordinary night. That meld…. Spock, I can’t begin to tell you what that meld meant to me.” Kirk was speaking as sincerely as he could, trying to be as open in speech as they had been open to one another within the meld the previous night. “It was…earthshattering. Wonderful. I’ve never felt anything like it in my life. Thank you.”

“It is rather I who should be thanking you, Jim.” Spock leaned forward in his chair intently. “Without your insight, I would still be grappling with the impossible. Now, it should be possible for me to continue what we have started.”

“Good. Should we meld again?” a bit hesitantly. “If you’d like, we could tear some more of that wall down, together.”

“That would be most pleasing, t’hy’la.”

“T’hy’la. You called me that several times. What does it mean?”

“It has no exact translation, but it carries the connotation of friend, brother, and lover. Of one who is everything to another.”

Kirk cast his eyes to the table as a flush of pleasure ran through him. Had anyone else ever heard such wondrous words spoken to them? It took him a few moments before he could regain his composure and meet Spock’s eyes again. “That’s beautiful, Spock,” he said softly. “I’m so glad to be a t’hy’la to you. You know I’ll meld with you whenever you want. I want you to be free, to be yourself. No part of you should be caged behind anything.”

“I believe we have made an excellent start in that direction. However, as you expressed last night, I am somewhat concerned over what we shall experience when all of my…emotions…are unleashed. Last night was rather…” Spock cocked his head to one side, as if he were analyzing the physical properties of an interesting planet, “…intense.”

Kirk nodded. “Maybe we’ll get used to it. Speaking of which, I could get used to the way you stimulated those pleasure centers.”

Spock tucked his head in towards his chest. “You are aware that I miscalculated somewhat.”

Kirk grinned. “I enjoyed your miscalculation. We’ll have to do that again sometime.”

Spock swallowed hard, but bravely met his captain’s eyes. “Agreed.”

They looked at one another wordlessly for a moment, and then Kirk gave their still joined hands a squeeze. “This feels very strange, sometimes. I look at you across the table, and I’m able to admire your reasoning and precision, and be grateful you’re my first officer. Then I look again, and suddenly it’s my lover who’s sitting there, and everything we share is in your eyes.” Kirk paused and said almost shyly, “Do you feel that, too?”

Despite all that they had shared, the openness with which they had revealed their feelings the night before, Spock still found it difficult to express himself in words. “Yes,” he said, uncomfortably. “The transition is not an easy one to make. However,” he forced himself to go on, “I am pleased to be your first officer, and pleased to be…your lover as well.”

Spock could see the surprise, and pleasure, in Kirk’s eyes at his use of the intimate term, and in truth Spock was a bit surprised at himself. Perhaps the result of the meld….

There were still some human practices that were difficult for Spock to reconcile with his reticent Vulcan background. “I also feel…” he looked down at their joined hands, “somewhat uncomfortable with this display of affection outside the privacy of our quarters.”

Kirk looked chagrined, and pulled his hands away at the gentle reprimand. “I’m sorry. I agree with you. We shouldn’t do that. I didn’t consciously intend to. But…you know that sometimes I just have the need to touch.”

Spock nodded. “I am aware of that. As you are aware of my need for privacy. We must find a balance between the two needs. I have confidence that it can be done.”

Kirk grinned into the warm brown eyes. “Two willing hearts…” he said lightheartedly, and then looked up as the doors to the briefing room hissed open.

For a moment, Bones stood silhouetted against the light from the corridor. He had expected to find the room empty, and encountering his captain grinning like a fool into the face of their first officer was a surprise. Even before he completed his first step into the room he felt acutely uncomfortable. Whatever they’d been discussing in the privacy of the briefing room, and it didn’t look like it had been strategy or tactics, it was obvious he was interrupting. Something.

McCoy walked uncertainly to the seat he’d been occupying during the discussion. “I didn’t expect to find anyone in here,” he said into the silence. “Aren’t you two going to get some breakfast? I don’t think you’re gonna solve the Orion problem this morning.” He picked up the tapes he’d left on the table, and waited for his two commanding officers to join him.

Kirk half-smiled at him, leaned his elbows on the table, and said casually, “You go on ahead, Bones. Spock and I have something we need to discuss. See you in a few minutes.”

“Okay,” McCoy said, as agreeably as he could in the face of the obvious dismissal. “Just make sure you don’t skip breakfast. You can’t expect to solve the problems of the galaxy if you don’t give your bodies the calories they need to do it. Even if it is just the rabbit food Spock likes so much.” He was trying to inject a feeling of normality with the comments they had all heard him make before, but he felt utterly foolish the moment they left his mouth. He was just babbling, and he had the uncomfortable feeling they knew of his discomfort as much as he did.

Unwilling to stay any longer with his inanities, McCoy walked quickly through the briefing room doors, forgotten tapes clutched absently in one hand. He wondered what in the world he had walked in on. He had felt so terribly awkward. Even though he hadn’t heard a single word they’d said, and he sincerely wished he had, he knew a private conversation when he saw one.

It was the body language, he concluded, that gave them away. Must have been something intense, he thought. Jim had been leaning in so close to the first officer, the way he frequently did when he was trying to make a point. But then why had Jim been grinning so…. McCoy searched for the correct word, and settled on a very simple one. Happily. Why had Jim looked so happy if he’d been trying to make a point?

McCoy was nothing if not curious about people, and now his curiosity was piqued by the two most intriguing people on the ship. He settled down happily to one of his favorite occupations, speculation. He’d just come from a meeting where they’d done a fair job of sorting out a mystery, in his opinion; he couldn’t help but extend some of that same analytical thought process to the subject now at hand. What the hell did Jim and Spock have up their sleeves now?

Did Spock have some news that had pleased Jim? Or maybe Jim had news he was happy about and he was telling Spock? That sounded more likely. But what news could there possibly be with them stuck out here so far from anywhere? Not news, then. Maybe a decision? McCoy mulled that one over as he dropped the tapes off in his office and headed for the mess. A decision felt right. He began to feel proud of his deductive reasoning, and swaggered a bit down the corridor.

Now he just had to work out what the decision was about. His thoughts flashed back to the last time Jim had behaved oddly, and McCoy’s threat to discover the “Secret of Sandra.” He’d been more than a bit drunk that morning, but he remembered his teasing of the captain distinctly. Could Jim be enamored of that woman on Starbase Eleven, and be telling Spock about it?

The doctor snorted in self-mockery, startling a crew woman passing him in the hall. The thought was too outrageous to be believed. Nevertheless, McCoy could not shake the thought that the lovely, tall, dark…he stopped himself from cataloging the woman’s other attributes…. Sandra had something to do with the strange behavior Jim had been exhibiting lately.

McCoy collected his tray and became distracted by his choices for breakfast. But in the back of his mind lurked the determination to somehow ferret out whatever was going on.

 

*****

 

In the briefing room, Kirk followed McCoy’s form out the door, then turned with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “If curiosity killed the cat, and Bones meowed….”

“Then the good doctor would be in need of his own sickbay.”

“Yeah.” Kirk shifted in his chair until he was fully facing his friend once again. “Spock, I’d like to send a tape to Sandra, on Starbase Eleven.” Kirk had told Spock all about her and the revelations of that night. Spock had advanced the opinion that Kirk’s infamous luck had been operating again, and expressed a desire to meet such an exceptional woman.

“I unloaded all my unhappiness and uncertainty on her, and now I’d like to tell her all that listening she did wasn’t in vain. Can you live with that?”

Spock tilted his head and looked at his captain fondly. “I do not understand your need to obtain my permission for a private communication. And I will ‘live’ regardless of the action that you take.”

Kirk mock-punched at the Vulcan mid-section. “I wasn’t asking permission, I was being polite by telling you what I was going to do. Just being considerate, and I thought we’d already established that I know you understand every idiom I can use.”

“Indeed. Although Doctor McCoy has frequently added to my knowledge by employing an unfamiliar expression.” Spock paused and looked seriously at his captain. “Jim, please feel free to give Sandra my best regards. I have much for which to thank her.”

Kirk stilled his impulse to touch. “Me, too.” They shared a long look, Kirk’s smile growing, and Spock trying to withstand the impulse to allow his lips to curve.

Then Kirk stood, and motioned towards the door. “Shall we indulge in breakfast, Mister Spock, as the good doctor suggested?”


	11. Chapter 11

Scotty sighed just before he pulled off his regulation tunic. He stared at its crumpled form in his hands for a moment before he yielded to the impulse to fling it to the corner of his quarters. He had rarely felt so at odds with himself, or with his shipmates, as he felt now. How, he asked himself as he strode towards the shower, how could they believe it? The thought that the engineering expertise of the Johnson Combine could be directed against and not for the Federation they had served for so long was incomprehensible to him. The evidence that the others cited seemed flimsy, insubstantial. Just about everything he had heard in the briefing room that morning was far-fetched, even unthinkable, and yet he had to admit that his had been the only dissenting voice in the room. Captain Kirk’s officers were not ones to keep their opinions to themselves. The young captain had encouraged input from them all from the very beginning, a courageous act that had immediately earned Scotty’s respect. Scotty also respected the reasoning abilities of his fellow officers. Mister Spock, Doctor McCoy, Lt. Commander Giotto, not to mention Captain Kirk himself had all sat about that same table many times. He had seen almost insurmountable problems conquered, puzzling mysteries solved. Of course, he had also witnessed his share of speculative wild goose chases, but to be fair most of the time the final analysis proved to be the correct one. The _Enterprise_ under Captain Kirk had a startlingly successful record, in all areas, and that included problem solving. Why should this be the rare exception?

He absently soaped himself under the shower and thought hard. He was not naive, neither was he a fool. Scotty was fully aware that his enthusiasms for machines, and all things connected with engineering, often blinded him to other concerns. He had certainly encountered enough teasing to last him a lifetime about “technical manuals” and his occasional desire to stay aboard the ship to overhaul his engines when he could have been enjoying shore leave. His single-minded devotion to the one great love of his life was frequently misunderstood, or the subject of gentle humor. He had learned to take it in stride a long time ago and had never once thought to alter his behavior because of it. The captain had his ship, McCoy had his patients, Scotty had his engines. It seemed to be the natural course of things.

Could he have allowed his enthusiasms to blind him today, he wondered as he toweled himself dry. If indeed the Johnson Combine were guilty of the incredible crimes his shipmates seemed willing to put at their door, then he could be of invaluable help through his experience with the firm. The very thought made him feel guilty, but he pursued it nevertheless. It was his duty to either clear the engineering firm absolutely of any charges against them or help find the evidence that would convince everyone, Starfleet Command and himself included, of their misdeeds. But what could he do, for either case?

He wearily pulled the bedspread and sheet down from his bunk, waved the lights to a dim glow, and gratefully sought the comfort of his pillow. He had spent too many hours on duty. Maybe sleep would restore some order to his confused thoughts and give him some direction.

 

*****

 

Scotty’s sleep was fitful. He tossed and turned for several hours, haunted by fragments of dreams and slivers of conscious thought that all carried a sense of doom and danger. His first thought upon awakening compelled him out of his bed and into a clean uniform in short order. Blast! Why hadn’t this occurred to him before? Why had it required a dream of explosive destruction to reveal this thought? He’d already wasted several hours when danger could have been lurking.

If the Combine people could reach into Orion space, they had even better access to the engine room of the _Enterprise_. And according to the wild scenario whose birth he’d witnessed, the captain and Mister Spock both thought the Combine had some reason for harming the personnel on the _Enterprise_ , maybe the ship herself. Not that he believed it for a minute, but could he take the chance that it wasn’t true? Guilty or not, Scotty owed it to his engines to give them a thorough inspection. The Johnson people had been on the ship just a few weeks before. A sense of great urgency filled him, and he hurried out his door and down the corridor thinking only of duty, of protecting what he had sworn with body and soul to keep safe.

Scotty remembered the captain’s admonition to keep him informed of developments, so when he reached the engine room he dutifully called the bridge.

“Captain, Scott here. I’m thinkin’ a thorough check of ma’ systems might be in order. sir. Considering…considerin’ what we talked about earlier.” Despite his resolution to act as if the others’ speculation were true, Scotty could not quite bring himself to voice his own suspicions, or even indicate what he was looking for. He hoped the captain would not push him.

Kirk replied, “All right, Scotty. Got some ideas?” 

Scotty hedged. “Nothing really, Captain. Just thought we shouldn’t assume anythin’.”

Kirk acquiesced without further discussion. Scotty wondered if his captain were wary of another outburst from his chief engineer. “Go ahead, Scotty. Just don’t take everybody off that analysis of the Orion equipment. We might find some clues there.”

Unseen, Scotty flushed. In his single-minded rush to the Engine Room, he had forgotten that. “Aye, sir. I’ll just be using two or three of my techs for now. Nothing to make a big difference. Scott out.”

Dutifully Scott assigned only Shinswani and O’Brien to the task of running diagnostics on the phaser control systems. He emphasized the need to inform him of the slightest problem, then went to examine the forward phaser room.

There had been changes in the way the ship operated since the start of the five year mission. Where once all orders to fire phasers needed to be relayed to the phaser control room, now the weapons could be fired directly using instrumentation on the bridge. It was a much more efficient arrangement.

With most of the phaser controls now re-routed to the bridge, there was little need for the small room tucked away on the eleventh deck of the _Enterprise_. It was one of the design flaws on the ship that the captain had pointed out to Admiral N’Kara during the inspection tour. Scotty had emphasized another point he found more important. The phasers themselves took their power from the mighty engines in the port and starboard nacelles, but that power was routed to this lowest level of the saucer before it could be expelled in concentrated fire against an enemy. It was eminently more practical, the Scot had argued, for the actual phasers to be mounted much nearer to the controlled yet violent explosion of matter and antimatter that provided the necessary energy. The long route that the mighty forces had to traverse wasted too much of what was generated and necessitated the complicated array of couplings and relays that the Johnson Combine had so recently updated. N’Kara had listened, nodded, and said he would take up the subject with Starfleet designers. He hadn’t needed to ask for a report on the subject. Scotty had provided one the first day of the inspection.

As Scotty entered the deserted room, he noted in passing its immaculate condition. Although the room was no longer in actual use, he and Mister Spock had set up a training program for inexperienced techs and young officers that simulated the conditions of combat. He was thankful no one was there now, then realized that everyone was undoubtedly busy with the double load of researching and guarding the Orions.

Before he had the chance to examine the controls, the intercom sounded.

“Scott here.”

“Ensign Shinswani, sir.” The woman’s delicate voice paralleled her slender build, but it also sounded determined. In the short time she had been assigned to his section, Scotty had conceived a definite respect for the young woman. He liked her. She was a fine addition to his team, and he had found that he was as impressed with her calm demeanor as he was with her grasp of technical matters. If she had called him, she undoubtedly had something important to say.

She continued in a serious tone. “There’s a peculiar reading on the phaser diagnostics, sir. It’s hard for me to pinpoint exactly what it is, and it seems intermittent, as if whatever is wrong is fluctuating. At first we thought it was nothing at all, but there definitely is a reading there.”

The engineer considered. Shinswani was relatively new and inexperienced in engineering, but she had had a long tenure in maintenance. She had been the one who had been monitoring that day Cr’tur had missed the partially polarized chamber. He should be able to trust her reading of the diagnostics. To be on the safe side, he asked, “What about O’Brien? Does he agree with you?”

A new, masculine voice answered. “Yes, sir, I do. It seems to be centered about the port transfer line in Section 11, conduit 2. Just beyond the last relay.”

That would put the irregularity just up the Jeffries tube that led into the control room itself. Easily accessible from where Scotty stood now. He was also uneasily aware that it was accessible for just about anyone who entered this often deserted room.

“All right, then. I’ll check it oot myself. Scott out.”

The Jeffries tube led him straight along the transfer line. He could hear only his own breathing and the scuffling sounds of his feet as he climbed the ladder and then turned to lay flat along the now horizontal tunnel. But despite the silence, Scotty was very aware of the tremendous forces of power that were coursing alongside the conduit. Even when the _Enterprise_ engines were silent, in warp two or three, he was always subliminally aware of the singing energy that moved her. It was part of what kept him attuned to the ship. Not any special psychic ability, just a knowledge of the forces that the engines he loved controlled. He knew he could not detect the power of the phaser line with his external senses. He also knew every part of the _Enterprise_ , and was aware that just inches from his body there was the power to destroy a mighty battleship or wreck havoc on a planet’s countryside.

Scotty pushed his prone body further along the tube, until he lay just next to the hatch that could safely give him access to the transfer line itself. The space was more cramped than a typical Jeffries tube, necessary here in the bowels of the ship because of the room required for all the safeguards for the passage of the phaser energy. The _Enterprise_ had to be protected from her own weapons.

He opened the hatch and peered down. Of course he couldn’t see the blue energy coursing along the line itself, but he could clearly see the titanium casing and the triple layered force field. The fields pulsed and glowed as if they were alive, one within the other within the other, safeguarding his life and all the lives of those on board. Even now, with the phasers quiescent, there were pulses of energy fed through the lines that could easily disintegrate his body if the force fields were to fail.

He turned his head and looked down along the transfer ‘line in the other direction. About fifteen feet from his position the line passed through what seemed to be a metal portal, extending around the glowing force fields in all directions for about eight inches. It seemed simple enough, but the innocent looking device was a technological breakthrough that had improved the energy available to the _Enterprise’s_ phasers by sixteen percent Just one part of the Johnson Combine’s improved phaser relay system. And recently serviced by a representative of the company.

Physical observation would tell him very little. Scotty carefully studied the built-in diagnostics along the wall of the little tunnel, and saw immediately what had disturbed O’Brien and Shinswani. The smallest fluctuation, the tiniest indication of a drop-off of energy, so small that it would not trigger the automatic alarms. It was possible he would have missed it himself, or dismissed it as being completely harmless if he were not specifically looking for something now. And, Scotty told himself, it could still be harmless. Just because there was a little fluctuation on the energy flow did not mean he had just uncovered evidence of galactic conspiracy.

Scotty wriggled his way back to the vertical portion of the tube, clambered down to the phaser control room, and searched for the equipment he would need to conduct his examination. A long extendible pole and a portable probe/scanner attached to the end of it would allow him access to the relay. It was standard equipment that Scotty was pleased to see was still stored in the control room. It saved him a long trek over to the nearest supply room.

Scotty climbed back up the ladder and awkwardly maneuvered the pole and himself into the horizontal tunnel. The quarters were too close for this to be done easily, and the pole was topheavy with the weight of the scanner. Scotty found himself wondering if the bright lad or lassie who had devised this inelegant way of reaching into inaccessible nooks and crannies of a starship’s innards had ever tried to do it themselves. In one of the smallest Jeffries tubes around, no less. He should have talked about this to N’Kara.

He finally had the hatch open, the pole extended along the transfer tube, and the scanner almost in contact with the relay. He hunched his body a little bit further into the hatchway, and extended his arms almost as far as they would reach. The scanner hovered close, but still too far for a good reading. He stretched to his full limit and was satisfied with a resounding Clunk! as the probe hit the relay grid.

But the readings told him nothing was wrong and this relay was operating as it should. Frustrated more than he had expected, the engineer didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. He relaxed his arms for a moment and allowed the scanner to rest against the side of the tube. When he moved to pick it up again, to reassure himself with a second scan, the weak light from the probe’s display glinted against an object in the tube. Just the smallest of glimmers, the smallest of happenings, but it distracted his attention for a moment from the relay and focused it instead on what he had subconsciously assumed to be a shadow. A shadow?

Scotty craned his neck further into the hatchway to try to get a better view of the most substantial shadow he had ever seen. It appeared to be a finger-shaped and -sized protrusion wrapped in a gentle curl about one of the supports. It was poised just a few centimeters from the outermost force field and, Scotty would swear, was definitely not an authorized piece of equipment.

He could tell very little by looking at it from several feet away, so he maneuvered the suspended scanner towards it to give him more information. What could this little gadget be?

As the scanner came into the gentlest of contacts with the mysterious object, several things happened at once. An electric spark arced from the scanner to the object. The electric light removed the mystery and unveiled the object to Scotty’s astonished eyes. A force field inhibitor, of a design he had read was being developed but had never seen. If it worked as had been planned, it would be several times the strength of the ones currently in use. It would be able to slice through a force field, possibly even the triple strength one surrounding the phaser energy flow, as easily as a knife through butter.

Before his horrified gaze, it began to do just that. Perhaps the contact with the probing field of the scanner had set off some triggering mechanism. Or perhaps he was witness to one of those wild coincidences of a capricious galaxy. Whatever the cause, the inhibitor began to hum, and a visible aura of energy surrounded it. The portion of the force field closest to it began to change color from a yellow-tinged white to a pale, then a brilliant blue. Scotty observed the obvious signs of the field breakdown with sick dread.

 

*****

 

In the main Engineering Room and on the bridge, the red alert klaxon started to blare. It took no more than a moment for Spock to assimilate the warning diagnostics, only a few seconds to relay the information to the captain alertly at his side. The malfunction was unthinkable, supposedly impossible, the danger extreme. They exchanged looks for a long moment, then Kirk gestured to the turbolift with his head. There was no choice. Spock’s knowledge of ship’s systems rivaled Scotty’s. “Go.”

Spock had disappeared within the lift by the time Uhura had established the connection with Engineering. Kirk heard Dawson’s too-comprehensive explanation with the thinking, reasoning part of his brain that was already evaluating evacuation and contingency plans. But his eyes were still fixed on the closed turbo doors as he spoke, and his heart was already eleven decks below. The _Enterprise_. And Spock.

He clamped down hard on the feeling invading his gut and leaned heavily on his belief…insistence…that this malfunction was just one more crisis they would all survive. His face was set like granite and his voice crisp as he called first for Giotto and then for McCoy.

 

*****

 

Suspended halfway through the open hatchway of the Jeffries tube, Scott was jabbing fiercely at the glowing device that was threatening to explode the _Enterprise_. His only hope of stopping it was to knock it from its perch with the pole now extended to its furthest limits. Sweat was pouring down his face, but he wouldn’t stop to wipe it away. Seconds counted. He had no way of knowing how long it would take the inhibitor to slice through….

A shower of blue sparks made him flinch. The first force field was gone, and already the second was starting to glow blue. Scotty jabbed again at the inhibitor fifteen feet away. Was that a slight movement he felt? Grimly he stretched and pushed with all his might. If only he had a little more reach, if only he could put more strength into his awkward movements, if only….

The vision of the _Enterprise_ erupting into a ball of molten fire filled his mind, and he involuntarily moved his body precariously through the hatchway. He fervently hoped it wasn’t a preview of things to come. He would launch his body towards the inhibitor before the last force field blew. There was a chance, a slim one, that his stunned and unconscious form would be able to accomplish what his directed jabbing had not. He measured the too-far distance he would have to travel, and knew the plan for desperation. He would do it, if he had no other choice. For the _Enterprise_ , and all the people whose lives she harbored. For the _Enterprise_.

Scott squinted his eyes to see if the rocking motion he felt through the pole were real. It was. The inhibitor was definitely loosening on its perch. The field was glowing ever brighter and brighter blue. Now a thick white smoke was drifting down the access tube. His eyes began to sting, and his throat constricted. A phaser coolant leak! If Scott had felt dread before, now fear threatened to paralyze him. He would have just a few minutes, perhaps four, before he succumbed to the deadly fumes. If the last field didn’t blow before then….

He couldn’t help taking a deep breath, and then choking as the fumes caught in his throat. He squinted through the smoke now filling the access tube and groped for the relay by feel. The engineer could barely see the blasted Johnson device at all, but the force field was now a bright blue, and its glow seemed to be suffusing the smoke with a ghostly hue that filled the restricted space and made a mockery of perspective. Where was that damned inhibitor? Already he felt dizzy and lightheaded, and knew he was reacting to the coolant faster than he had expected. He had to find that damned device….

A hand clamped tightly around his ankle, and Scotty started forward with surprise. Only the strength of the one holding him prevented him from losing his balance completely and falling directly into the deadly fields. He grabbed at the pole suddenly loose in his hands, and coughed out, “Mister Spock!”

Scott was manhandled out of the hatchway, and his face pressed into the life giving oxygen of a respirator mask. Through the tears streaming down his face he looked at the Vulcan. “There’s a….”

“I am aware of the problem, Mister Scott. Allow me past you and I shall see if I can effect a solution.” As always during an emergency, Spock was calm and determined. He put the open communicator he held in one hand down on the Jeffries tube floor, readjusted the tool belt at his waist, and reached for the pole.

The engineer hitched his body over to one side, chest heaving in grateful draughts of air. He knew he wouldn’t have lasted even another minute without the mask. Spock’s upper body disappeared through the hatchway before Scott was able to register the fact that the first officer was not wearing a respirator. Spock must not have known that Scotty was already on the scene and brought only one with him. Scott moved towards the hatch, intending to share his with Spock, when he found himself lunging wildly for the Vulcan’s legs as the first officer slid even further into the dangerous access tube.

“Mister Spock!” His voice was muffled by the respirator, and the sizzles coming from the glowing force field filled the air, but he knew he could be heard. He was shouting at the top of his lungs, fear evident in every word. “Mister Spock, doona go in ana further! Ye’ll be fried by the fields!”

The legs within his grasp gave a little kick, and Scott found himself being drawn against the hatch doorway as Spock ignored his warning and inched forward. The Scotsman tightened his grip against the movement of the body, and braced his legs against the hatchway. A calm voice returned, “We have fewer than three minutes of life left, Engineer. I judge that it is time for such risks. If you will support me I believe that I….”

The words were lost as it became obvious that Spock was now reaching forward with the pole. Scotty peered through the opening and saw that Spock was suspended just inches from the flowing force field, but had a much better angle with the pole than he had had. The second force field protecting the phaser energy flow was still glowing a bright blue. Scotty breathed a silent blessing upon the Aberdeen firm that had designed the protective safeguards; they had already lasted minutes longer than official specifications.

There was another crackling sound from within the tube that caught his attention. Scott looked about him for another disaster and caught sight of the communicator. The captain’s voice was coming from it now.

“Spock? Report in, Mister Spock!”

The captain sounded breathless, as if he had been running. Maybe he had. For the first time Scotty imagined the evacuations to the engineering hull that the crew must be attempting. Probably Emergency Procedure Four, complicated by the presence of the Orion prisoners. Or was everyone depending on the two men in the Jeffries Tube to prevent their world from detonating? He must inform the captain of the crew’s very real danger.

He turned his head towards the communicator, but kept his tight grip on the first officer’s legs. “Captain Kirk! Captain Kirk!”

“Scotty?” The voice sounded surprised, but it never took long for Kirk to recover. “What’s your status there?”

“Mister Spock’s tryin’ to detach a field inhibitor from the phaser energy flow! The first field’s already gone!”

“…the phaser energy flow? My God, Scotty, where are you?”

The engineer didn’t have the breath for anything but the truth. He shoved the respirator to one side by rubbing it against his shoulder and shouted towards the communicator, “I’m holding Mister Spock right over the energy now, Captain. Section 11, conduit 2. Get everybody oot! I doon’t know if we can….”

His words were lost as the second force field blew in a shower of blue sparks and an explosive sound. Spock’s body jerked and his booted feet kicked back directly against the engineer’s midsection. Scotty lurched forward with an “Oommph!” but held on tightly. He tried to look through the swirling smoke at the form dangling from the hatchway. “Mister Spock? Are ya all right?”

The wave of Spock’s arm through the white cloud came simultaneously with the further crackling of the communicator. “Scotty! What’s happening? There’s a team standing by….”

“Nae! Don’t send anybody! The second field just blew! If we can’t do it, you’ll all be blasted to pieces!” He succumbed to a fit of coughing as the acid smoke felt like it was searing its way all the way down his lungs. Scotty hitched his shoulder over until he was breathing the clean air from the mask again. If this was how he felt, how could Spock stand it down in the access tube?

 

*****

 

“There’s probably a coolant leak there, too, sir. We’ll have to bring the respirators.” Dawson handed him one.

Kirk looked about at the small group of volunteers. He was immensely proud of them. Now that the evacuation procedures were in full swing, he had no intention of following the crew to the engineering hull. This group of red-shirted engineers, not to mention the two from medical, were grimly preparing to go with him to Section 11, conduit 2.

They had no time to waste. Kirk tucked the mask in the belts they all wore. “Let’s go.”

Despite the emergency override, the turbolift ride seemed endless. Kirk concentrated hard on not ticking off the seconds in his mind, and in visualizing the engineering schematic of the area where Spock and Scotty must be. The weight of the communicator on the belt against his hip was too obvious. He was so tempted to grab it up and demand that Scotty report in. But he couldn’t help them or anybody else with his questions. Scotty had already said that the second protective force field had gone. That had been minutes ago. Surely the third one would not have been able to hold out for so long against whatever it was that was attacking the ship. For a moment his body tensed, expecting to be blown to pieces at any second. What was going on up that Jeffries tube?

The lift doors opened, and they all exited at a run. They passed the empty labs and storage rooms, raced along the deserted corridors with single-minded purpose. Before they reached the forward phaser control room, there were already tendrils of white smoke groping towards them, and Kirk commanded, “Masks on, everyone!”

The control room was empty, although filled with a wispy white cloud. Kirk barely paused to survey it before he was rapidly climbing the first rungs of the ladder. Dawson was right behind him.

They came upon the two men sitting in the horizontal portion of the Jeffries tube, the light from the glowing phaser energy line shining on their faces through an open hatchway. They were just in the act of passing a respirator from Vulcan to engineer.

Without thought, Kirk stripped his mask off and handed it to Spock. The first officer rewarded him with an uplifted eyebrow, but took the offering. It was no less than Kirk would have done for any crewmember, if not quite so enthusiastically. Besides, the phaser coolant in the air was clearly dissipating.

Dawson was not content with the silence among them. He peered anxiously down into the access tunnel. “Did you get it, Mister Scott?”

Scott lifted the mask to wipe at his still streaming eyes. “Aye, laddie, that we did.” His voice was weary. “Mister Spock did, at any rate. A force field inhibitor, right on the new Johnson relay.” His eyes lifted to Kirk’s in mute apology.

Kirk put one hand on the engineer’s shoulder and squeezed. They shared a moment of understanding before Kirk began to cough, quickly followed by the same sound from the first officer.

Scotty stirred into motion. “And we’d better be gettin’ Mister Spock to sickbay. He breathed in too much of the coolant, Captain.” He turned and urged Dawson back down the tube.

Just for a moment, Kirk sat and observed his friend. He fought down the tremendous feelings of relief and happiness that seeing Spock alive and having the _Enterprise_ safe gave him.

“You okay?” he asked softly, and touched the back of Spock’s hand fleetingly.

Spock nodded, observing him a bit warily, clearly awaiting a more emotional declaration.

Kirk drew in a deep breath, coughed again, and reached for his communicator. “Time to bring everyone back home. Let’s go.”


	12. Chapter 12

It was nighttime on the _Enterprise_. Second shift was looking forward to relief by third shift, the lights were carefully lowered to simulate evening, and the captain was taking a stroll. As he often did to tuck in his ship. His appearance around the ship, even in leisure clothing, was not too unusual.

At least he hoped it wasn’t. Kirk certainly didn’t want to attract any attention tonight. He felt awkward and embarrassed enough as it was. He wished he could have done this some other way, but the only other one that had occurred to him had involved asking his yeoman, or even Bones, and either scenario was completely out of the question. Even asking Spock had seemed unfair. The Vulcan seemed totally unsuited to this task. Besides, Kirk’d told Spock last night that he would take care of this, and he would.

He carefully looked up and down the deserted corridor before sauntering down it in his best casual style. He felt like an idiot. Why couldn’t he treat this just like any other visit he had made to the automated pharmaceutical dispensing unit? He’d come here for aspirin, for depilatory cream, for toothpaste, for any one of a number of items that the ship regularly carried in its stores and did not require any special authorization to requisition. The strange thing was, he wasn’t even positive the _Enterprise_ carried what he needed. He’d never had the occasion to look for it before.

Kirk quickly checked the corridor again before turning to the small recessed alcove that housed the selection display. He wasted no time in calling up “Creams, Lotions, and Oils,” and scanned it as rapidly as he could. There. “Cream Suitable for Anal Intercourse.” Decisively he punched in “one” for quantity and waited while the machine hummed a bit and processed his order. Within ten seconds there was a clang, much too loud for his tastes, as his order rolled down the chute and banged against the door.

Kirk bent to retrieve it and found a smallish silver tube in his hand. He stuffed it hurriedly in the back pocket of his jeans, which he had worn specifically for the occasion because they did have pockets, and turned to go. It was only then that the size of the tube registered. Would that be enough? It looked awfully small. Like it didn’t contain nearly enough. Then again, how would he know how much they would need? He wasn’t exactly an expert at this. As a matter of fact, he had rarely felt like such a novice in his life, and more than once on this unusually long trek through his ship he had wondered through his embarrassment what he had gotten into.

He hadn’t wondered last night. Last night they had seen the last of the Orions off the ship as they were transferred to the frigate _Halley’s Comet,_ and then they’d turned the _Enterprise_ towards Starbase 15. The Lexington was already taking their place patrolling near Orion space. The pressures of patrol had disappeared, Scotty was now as convinced as the rest of them of the Johnson Combine’s complicity, and Spock had been released from sickbay with no harm done.

No, last night he hadn’t wondered at all. He’d welcomed Spock back to the red-lit quarters with a big bear hug and a desire to show his first officer just how glad his captain was to see him still alive….

Spock’s hunger for him seemed to equal the captain’s own desires. They didn’t move from their position four feet in front of the now-closed door for quite some time, they were so occupied in kissing passionately. Spock hadn’t seemed surprised at all at the captain’s vociferous welcome, but had eagerly returned the ardent caresses.

Finally, they each drew back by mutual consent and the need to breathe more deeply than their kissing had allowed, and Spock looked into Jim’s eyes with a smile in his own.

“Am I to assume that you are pleased to have me return from sickbay?”

Kirk locked his arms around his Vulcan’s neck and drew them closer. “Of course. It’s tough to run the ship without a first officer.”

“Am I also to assume that I will receive such a welcome whenever you so admirably restrain yourself?” The captain had been the model of decorum during his three visits to sickbay the past twenty-four hours. Spock had first been relieved, and then had smugly told himself that Jim could be trusted in all things.

“If you insist on placing yourself in dangerous situations,” the captain’s words were light, but Spock saw the frown settle in the hazel eyes, “then I suppose I can insist on welcoming you any way I please.” The twinkle returned. “And boy, am I pleased!” He leaned forward to nuzzle Spock’s neck, then nipped it lightly with teasing teeth.

It wasn’t long after that they were together on the bed, clothes flung carelessly on the floor, even the blue tunic that was usually fastidiously folded. Kirk fought the instinct to give in to his urgently demanding arousal. He was so, so grateful that he had Spock here to love tonight, and he wanted Spock to know that. His friend deserved more than just a frenzied love-making session, even if the frenzy was born of relief, and love, and desire. And now they finally had the time they’d both been waiting for.

“Roll over,” he said tenderly. Spock looked at him with a question in his eyes, but obligingly turned over onto his stomach on the narrow bed. From a kneeling position next to the long body Kirk bent over and started to nuzzle the back of the strong neck. “Do you know how worried I was about you?” he queried, and he reached up to stroke the dark silken strands. Spock sighed and seemed to snuggle deeper into the pillow. “Do you know how hard it was to keep myself from hugging and kissing you when I found you alive in that damned tube?” Kirk moved down to the narrow shoulders. Spock made no effort to answer the rhetorical questions, but closed his eyes and looked blissful. He was clearly enjoying his captain’s attentions.

Kirk planted a kiss precisely at the base of the neck, and then started an exact row of kisses to one side. When he had completed this task, he returned to the middle and started to the other side. Only now he paused to lick and occasionally suck, and twice to bite the Vulcan skin, so that by the time he had reached the arm, Spock had opened his eyes again and was staring at him over his shoulder in disbelieving arousal.

“Oh, no,” Kirk said teasingly, “we’ll have none of that. I’ve got business to attend to here.” Nevertheless, he leaned forward to share a soul-deep, open-mouthed kiss that left them both gasping. Spock had raised himself up and turned somewhat to reach him, and Jim was fighting a primal instinct to devour his lover.

“Where was I,” he muttered a bit thickly, and pushed him back down. Kirk settled himself on his stomach next to Spock, but farther down on the bed, and cushioned his own chest and arms against his bedmate’s back. Before he was able to resume his previous occupation of appreciating the Vulcan back, Spock raised his pelvis a few inches and thrust into the bed, taking Kirk along with him. Kirk chuckled, but decided to ignore the broad hint.

He kissed and sucked his way down the beautifully delineated torso, murmuring his appreciation as he went. The skin was soft yet firm, the body strongly muscled. It was usually all hidden by the regulation blue uniform. When Kirk brushed his fingers casually along Spook’s side, he drew in a sharper breath and shivered, so Kirk teased him again and again.

“Jim…” Spock threatened hoarsely, and Kirk relented, to return to his kisses. The thrusts into the mattress were becoming more frequent now, and Kirk was enjoying the ride. His Vulcan was getting really excited, and they hadn’t even touched each other below the waist yet.

Kirk moved to remedy that oversight. He swiped his tongue along the twin indentations that were the hollows of the narrow waist, and finally heard the moan Spock had been suppressing. It sent shivers of desire through his body, and he raised up on his own knees a bit, to gently rub his cock along the side of his lover’s leg. He forced himself to move slowly, savoring the incredible sensations and allowing himself to feel his arousal grow and grow. It was a wonderful feeling. To have Spock here under him, to know he was giving his friend such pleasure, to feel his own cock respond to the thought of its own completion soon, to feel the absolute rightness of his place in this room now with this man. The universe had tilted and then righted itself with their passions. There was nowhere else he could possibly be.

Kirk forced himself to stop his self-stimulation. There’d be time enough for him later. Right now he wanted to concentrate on Spock. He settled back down on the heated body and placed a loud smack on the narrow waist. He began to kiss down along the curve of the beautiful ass, placing his free hand on the other fleshy mound and gently kneading it. They’d never done anything like this before, he’d never taken the time to appreciate that part of Spock individually. If Kirk had stopped to plan what he was doing tonight, he might have worried about Vulcan reticence, and modesty. But his lover didn’t seem to have any objections with this new type of full-lit intimacy at all, and a part of Kirk rejoiced. Spock was giving him so much….

He took a little portion of the ass in his teeth and worried it a bit, sucking and nipping and thoroughly enjoying the slow-motioned thrashing this caused. Releasing his suction just a bit, he moved slowly down the gentle curve with his mouth wide open, laving the much-loved flesh with tongue and lips.

Spock was partway up on elbows and knees now, quivering with excitement. When Kirk reached the top of one hairy leg, he caught a glimpse of testicles dangling between the partly spread legs. They called to him irresistibly.

He put both his hands on the small of his lover’s back and pushed hard. “Lay down,” Kirk growled in his best captain’s voice. When Spock was back down on the bed, Kirk pushed one leg up to the side so it bent at the knee. There, mission accomplished. He could clearly see the lightly furred balls, and he bent down to investigate.

Kirk touched them first with the tips of his fingers, probing gently, then tiptoed them forward until he had both testicles fully encased within his curved fingers. The balls looked a lot like his own, maybe a little looser in the sac than his would be at this stage of excitement. But there was a big difference in their sensitivity. Spock was wriggling from side to side with his touch, his breaths coming loud and quickly. It was almost as if it were the sensitive cock he were holding. Intrigued, Kirk swirled one finger from root up over the rounded softness, then back again. Spock stiffened with the movement, took in a deep breath, and thrust vigorously into the bedding. Kirk went with the movement, and could feel the balls in his hand begin to tighten.

He wondered if all Vulcans were so sensitive here, or if it was just his lover who had such wonderful responsiveness. It didn’t matter. He had discovered something new, outside his own human sexual responses, that could give the one he loved pleasure.

He shifted his position and bent down low. How would Spock react to this? He touched his tongue to the softness, felt Spock shudder, and heard him give in to uncontrollable moans.

“Jim!” he gasped. “Jim…. Oh! Oh!” and pushed back for more stimulation. Kirk began to wriggle a bit himself. There was nothing more erotic than hearing his restrained friend submit to a frenzy of sexual desire.

Kirk continued to explore his treasure with his tongue and lips, still cupping the testicles in his hand, and growing more aroused by the second. He was drowning in this incredible intimacy. He didn’t think either of them could possibly last much longer. And he couldn’t believe he was so hot from just exploring Spock’s body. But now he was so turned on he could barely think, all he wanted to do was to get closer and closer to the source of this delight, to know this body as intimately as he knew his own, to force this wonder to go on and on and on.

When he paused for a moment to catch his breath and re-moisten his tongue, it seemed the most natural thing in the world for him to continue to stroke his tongue upwards, along the crack of Spock’s ass. He pushed up onto his knees between the spread legs, and used his hands to part the ass cheeks. Under him, Spock had frozen, holding absolutely still except for the shuddering gasps of breath that he could not control.

Kirk continued to lick his way up one side of the crack and then down the other. His tongue found the anus and teased around it with wet licks. He’d never done this with any other of his sexual partners, although he’d had it done to him a few times. He’d never contemplated the pleasure performing this act might bring. He paused and drew back to look. Suddenly the memory of having sex with Sandra came over him. He remembered the tightness, the warmth, the incredible ecstasy of sinking into her body and calling Spock’s name. And there was nothing, nothing, he wanted more in the galaxy than to sink into Spock in the same way now.

They stayed like that, a frozen tableau of passion, Kirk poised over Spock, his hands paralyzed on his friend’s ass, his cock stiff and weeping as it yearned towards completion. Spock was laid flat on the mattress, his heaving breaths shaking the bed, his hair disarrayed, a wild, questioning look in his passion-clouded eyes.

Kirk couldn’t stand the tension any longer. “Spock?” he asked shakily, and was astonished at the quaver in his voice. He swallowed hard, and clutched at one ass cheek. “I want….” No, it was impossible, how could he ask for that, how could they possibly….

But Spock was turning over on the bed within his grip, reaching up to pull Kirk down fully on top of him, grinding their full, hard arousals together, and Spock was gasping incoherently into his ear, and thrusting up hard against him, and they were lost, lost, lost….

And that was why Kirk was now standing before the automated pharmaceutical dispensing unit in indecision. Better to have too much than not enough, he philosophically decided, and turned to punch in “two” under quantity. Again there was a clang as his order rolled down the chute and banged against the door, and he scooped up the two tubes and put them in his other jeans back pocket.

Now that the deed was done, Kirk almost felt like whistling as he sauntered down the halls. He wouldn’t care if he met anyone now, even that old snoop Bones. He laughed silently at the thought. What would Bones say when he found out? The news would probably at least shut him up for a minute or two, Kirk thought smugly. He frankly fantasized for a moment, enjoying the image of Bones casually asking him what was in his pockets, and his rather unlikely truthful response, “Oh, just a little something I picked up for anal intercourse, Bones. You know, fucking around with a man.” The crudity of his own thoughts both surprised him and titillated him. He didn’t think of his relationship with Spock as “fucking around,” far from it, but he also had to ruefully concede that there was a certain appeal in the shocking thought expressed that way. Bet Bones would have to pick up his jaw from the floor.

Kirk forced his expression into more sober lines as he entered the turbolift. It wouldn’t do to be seen walking around with a silly grin on his face. He thought about last night as the levels passed by. They’d both been so excited by Kirk’s unstated question that they’d each climaxed almost immediately. But afterwards, they’d held each other tightly and shyly talked about it. It had been good, so good, to talk intimately with Spock in the darkness.

And then they’d melded again. It was only as his friend’s fingers were slowly descending towards his face that Kirk realized Spock hadn’t stiffened in his arms after their lovemaking this time. And so the image in the meld had been a laughing, triumphant Kirk, who’d drawn his friend into a joyful dance that ended by the old stone wall. He’d watched as Spock pulled down a few more stones, and then he’d followed the sparks back into the green glowing world where his lover showered him with loving memories….

It was hard to find the words to describe their union there. Kirk had puzzled about it on and off all day, and finally had given up in wondering defeat. It wasn’t anything like the melds they’d experienced in the line of duty, when information had needed to be passed from one to the other. Kirk hadn’t read Spock’s mind or had access to any of his memories. What had been passed between them had been far more important. Feelings. Intent. Passionate devotion. More love than Kirk had ever dreamed existed. How to put any of that into words? Kirk sighed happily as he exited the lift. Thank God he didn’t have to use words. They just weren’t necessary when he and Spock joined minds.

That thought took him all the way to the first officer’s door. He hesitated there for a moment, then went farther down the hall to his own quarters. Despite his musings about McCoy, better not to be advertising anything too blatantly yet. They hadn’t even really discussed if they wanted anyone to know about their…sexual involvement, and there was a big part of Kirk that wanted to keep it completely quiet. He was realistic enough to know that it wouldn’t sit well with everyone. Too many images shattered, too many preconceived notions destroyed. Not to mention the many legitimate concerns that Starfleet command might have.

He was convinced that they could maintain their professional relationship as always. The incident with the phaser force field disintegration had proven that to him. He’d ordered Spock down to deck eleven into a lethal situation without blinking an eye. Besides Scotty, the first officer was without a doubt the person most capable of dealing with that deadly emergency, and at the time the bridge crew had had no idea that Scotty was already on the scene. No, he’d been able to order Spock into danger knowing that was the best choice for the ship, and then he’d been able to restrain his very natural relief and overwhelming joy when his lover had emerged alive.

Kirk walked through his darkened cabin and on through their shared bathroom. Spock was taking a shower, and Kirk didn’t pause before going on to the red-lit cabin. Not that either of them had ever been tremendously modest with each other. Sharing a bathroom for three years, that had been almost impossible. But modesty and privacy were two separate things, and Kirk had always done his best to ensure his Vulcan friend’s privacy. Besides, the boundaries which Spock would feel most comfortable with had yet to be established, and Kirk didn’t want to push him. Although, looking at the three silver tubes that he was carefully laying out on the nightstand, maybe boundaries were not something he needed to worry about too much after all.

He looked up from where he stood at the side of the bed as Spock emerged from the bathroom, a towel draped around his waist, looking sleek with his wet hair. “Hi,” he said softly, and moved around to greet his lover with a kiss. “Hope you don’t mind I let myself in.”

“That is acceptable,” Spock said evenly, and moved over to his dresser to retrieve clothing.

In anyone else Kirk would have taken the words as a rebuff, but he knew Spock was just stating the, to him, obvious. He grinned at the long back and stretched. It felt good in the warm quarters. Of course, last night he had ended up sweating profusely, and Spock had obligingly turned down the temperature and retrieved some seldom used blankets for his own use. It was the only way Kirk could have stayed the night.

Kirk strolled over to the computer, punched in the thermostat display, and saw that the temperature was set at a good eight degrees lower than Spock usually maintained it. He turned to tell Spock that there was no need for such solicitude, then thought better of it. If Spock wanted to show him such thoughtfulness, who was he to say no? And, truthfully, with all the physical activity they’d engaged in, and would likely engage in tonight, the lower temperature seemed like a good idea. It was still hot enough in here to feel toasty.

He turned towards Spock again and found a glass of liquid being held out towards him. “I thought you might care for some refreshment,” Spock intoned, and motioned with the glass once towards Kirk.

“Tranya?” Kirk asked, and took a sip. “I thought we’d used it all up ages ago.” The _Enterprise_ had taken on the generous gift from Balok, and it had proven to be wildly popular with the crew.

Spock held his glass up to the light and scrutinized it. “I held back a portion of my allotment with the intention of offering some to my father. I believe I saw it even then as a peace-offering. Or perhaps I illogically hoped for peace between us. Despite our recent reconciliation, there has been no opportunity for me to visit Vulcan again and add to his collection of beverages from around the galaxy.” Spook’s eyes dropped from his uplifted glass and locked with Kirk’s. “I offer it to you tonight instead with pleasure.”

“Thank you,” Kirk said softly, and drank again while looking at Spock. If his friend was trying to set up a seduction, he was doing damned well. Spock was simply clad in black regulation T-shirt and black slacks. He was barefoot. And he looked wonderful. Before Starbase Eleven, Kirk had never before felt any kind of attraction for a male body, perhaps had never allowed himself to feel any attraction. Looking at Spock now, he had to admit the distinct feelings were there. After just a few sessions of loving Spock, his body was responding in all the old familiar ways to a brand new stimulus. The strength in the muscled arms, the flat and hairy chest, the long line of unmistakably masculine leg, all combined somehow into a pleasing, suddenly very sexy picture. All Spock, and all so very precious.

He set his glass down on the desk. “Come here,” he ordered, and held out his arms. Spock promptly drained his own glass and walked into his captain’s arms. They settled into an easy embrace. Kirk dropped his head against one strong shoulder. Spock tightened his hold and rubbed his cheek against Kirk’s hair. There were simultaneous sighs of contentment.

“You know, Spock,” Kirk said softly, “this feels so good. I still can’t believe it’s all real. That we’ve found each other.” He drew back a little to look up at the harsh-planed face.

Spock reached to hold Kirk’s chin in his hand. “I can assure you, you are not dreaming. Not unless we dream together.” He softly placed his lips against his captain’s.

The kiss was a dream itself. Soft. Reaffirming. Full of love. Full of promises that were as yet unspoken. All the tenderness which was inherent in the Vulcan’s soul went into that kiss; all the genuine affection turned to passion the human pressed into the embrace.

They clung to one another in wonder. Kirk had never felt anything like this with anyone else. Never. So much comfort. So much peace. Knowledge that Spock’s heart and strength and mind were his whenever he called upon them, pure and true as the Creator of the Universe first made them, awed him and humbled him as well. This happiness that was suddenly his, suddenly theirs, who could be deserving of it?

Suddenly the loudly discordant sound of the intercom signaling for the captain filled the cabin. With a sigh the two separated themselves, reluctance apparent in their clinging arms.

“Uhura’s timing….” Kirk muttered, as he walked over to the intercom on Spock’s desk. He felt positively unsteady. He carefully sat down and turned the pick-up so it would show only him in the picture. “Kirk here.”

He’d forgotten. Second shift. Lieutenant Vitek. “Captain, we are receiving a transmission from Starfleet Command. Canned, from Starbase Fifteen. Shall I pipe it down to your quarters?” There was no question that the captain would want to review the transmission immediately.

Kirk looked over at Spock. He nodded and moved to stand behind his captain. Kirk returned his attention to Lieutenant Vitek. “Lieutenant, I’m in Mister Spock’s quarters. Send it down here.”

The dark craggy features of Admiral N’Kara filled the screen. The two men on the _Enterprise_ looked at one another in surprise. They each had thought the admiral would be long gone on another inspection tour. Apparently not.

“Captain Kirk.” The admiral looked a little harried, and anxious. “When you arrive at Starbase Fifteen, I would ask you not to discuss any of the conclusions you have reached concerning the Orion situation with anyone but myself. Although you did not go into any detail in your report, I think it very likely that we have each reached similar conclusions. If so, I am sure you will agree with me that they are explosive. I’ll be handling your debriefing, not Commodore Franchek.” Then, explosively, “I want to do something about this situation. Come armed with ideas. N’Kara out.”

Kirk leaned back in his chair. “Well, if it’s possible to say Johnson Combine without words, he just did.”

Spock looked at him tolerantly and sat down in the other chair. “Jim, you are jumping to conclusions. There are any number of possible explanations for the admiral’s call.”

Kirk shook his head. “Not likely, Spock. The evidence doesn’t point in any other ‘explosive’ direction. I wonder what the old fella is still doing on Starbase Fifteen?

Wonder what he’s doing involved in this whole situation?”

Spock steepled his fingers. “It seems logical to assume that we are not the only members of Starfleet who are concerned with the Orion activity. There may be others actively searching for the evidence that we have found. It occurs to me that there is another avenue to approach the problem. If our suspicions are correct, Technician Walls may indeed have more information on this subject than we were able to obtain. Starfleet may be in possession of that information. Perhaps that is the reason for the admiral’s interest. The admiral impressed me as a man of insight and intelligence. It is entirely possible that he has been concerned about the Orion problem while involved in the inspection of the _Enterprise_.” Spock stirred and looked over his fingers at Kirk. “It would be illogical to speculate any further. At any rate, we shall know the truth soon, when we arrive at the starbase.”

Kirk was frowning heavily. “The truth. I thought Starfleet would be surprised to hear what we have to say. That we would need to convince them. Now N’Kara tells us to come with ideas. I’m not sure I like the sound of that.

“Indeed. If he is a man of action as he appears to be, there is a great likelihood that the _Enterprise_ will be directed against the Orions in some way.”

“Or even worse, directed against the Johnson Combine.” Kirk looked worried. “Those are powerful people. I hope Starfleet knows exactly what it’s doing before we initiate any action.” His face was suddenly filled with resolve. “I’ll make sure we know what we’re doing. This could be as dangerous for the Federation and Starfleet as any Klingon or Romulan battle.” Kirk had taken an oath to protect the Federation; even more importantly, he believed in its ideals and goals with every fiber of his being. He would defend its dreams while he breathed. “If the opposition who are in favor of a human dominated Federation can accuse Starfleet of politically-motivated activities, it could give them just the wedge they need to gain power. There could be lots of misplaced righteous indignation.” Kirk rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “No, we’d better be damned sure of our facts before we face the Johnson Combine. The damage they could do to Starfleet politically is just as bad as damage done in battle. Worse, because it could undermine the Federation’s basic structure.”

The two men sat in silence for a while, each contemplating the evils done in the name of self-interest. After a few minutes, Kirk stirred and looked at Spock with a smile. “I don’t know about you, but no bright ‘ideas’ occur to me now. I’ll have to wait until I hear what N’Kara’s got. Or maybe until my mind is not so preoccupied with other things.” His grin got wider. “Wanna go to bed with your commanding officer, Mister Spock?”

Spock appeared to contemplate the idea seriously. “It was an activity that was consuming a great deal of my interest before we were interrupted by the intercom.”

Kirk stood up and held out one hand. “Then by all means, let’s satisfy your interest. Far be it from me to stand in the way of the interests of one of the foremost scientists around.”

“Jim,” Spock protested as he was led to the red-covered bed, “you exaggerate my skills and my importance.”

Kirk was busy pulling down the bedspread and sheets, and kicking off his shoes by using his toes. He slid onto the bed, propped himself up against the pillows and held out his arms again. “Wanna cuddle?” he asked again, with a catch in his voice.

Spock smoothly sat down in the curve of Kirk’s arm, turned to place a light, token kiss on the smiling lips, then placed his cheek on a supporting shoulder. “I am not sure I completely understand the term ‘cuddle.’ I had previously assumed it to apply only to a mother’s activity with her child.”

“Then you’ve come to the right spot to learn, Spock. I’m a cuddler from way back.” Kirk tightened his arms about his treasure, and Spock responded by squeezing back. They lay like that for several minutes. Kirk was in utter bliss, and Spock felt as contented as he ever had.

After a while, Kirk started to idly caress one hairy arm. “You know, Spock,” and his voice was serious and low, “being here with you like this is very important to me. I don’t mean here in bed, being sexually intimate with you. I mean holding you like this, touching you, you letting me be so close. Before Starbase Eleven, I found myself wanting to touch you all the time, and I was confused about it. Since then, the sex we’ve had has been terrific, the meld the other night was indescribable, but what I find myself wanting, more than anything, is just this, this ability, this right, to touch.” He hugged Spock more tightly, almost in desperation. “I love holding you. Don’t ever make me stop.”

Spock felt unaccountably shy at the emotional words, and knew the urge not to say anything at all. Not to speak what was in his heart. He recognized the moment for one that Jim had warned of. _You’ve got to talk to me, Spock, and tell me what you feel._ If he were to be worthy of the intimacy Jim offered, he would have to share. Spock cleared his throat.

“I, too, treasure the ability to touch you in this way. As you know, as a touch telepath, I must limit my touching so that there is not undue strain put upon my mental shields. To have found a compatible person to touch, and not be concerned about shielding myself from the thoughts and emotions of another, is a great relief. A great pleasure.” He turned onto his stomach and propped his head up in his elbows. It was a thoughtlessly casual gesture that thrilled Kirk all out of proportion to its significance. Spock continued, forcing Kirk’s attention away from his pose. “I do not mean to say that the pleasure of our intimacy is only a mental one. On the contrary, its physical aspects are very pleasing to me as well.” Spock was speaking very levelly, forcing his way through his embarrassment. “And it is so unusual for me, for you know that I have limited my physical interactions with others.”

They were touching along the sides of their bodies, Spock’s face just inches from his bedmate’s. Kirk was moved by the open honesty of Spock’s words. He knew his friend did not always find such words easily.

“I know. You surprised me when you mentioned your previous…sexual activity. I mean…” momentarily Kirk floundered for words, “I didn’t exactly think you were a virgin, but…you’ve been so discreet. I….”

Spock was regarding his discomfort with an amused tilt to his eyebrow. “While I have been aware of your own liaisons to an uncomfortable degree.” Kirk flushed at the statement and turned his head away. Spock reached out one strong finger, placed it under his captain’s chin, and firmly turned it until Kirk was looking at him once again. “There is no need for you to regret those experiences for my sake. We each are the sum total of our pasts. Without the discomfort of seeing you involved with others, I might never have come to understand what you meant to me. Without my own experiences, I would not have had the confidence to enter into a physical relationship with you. I do not regret my past. It has led me to this, to where I want to be.”

Kirk was smiling at him. “And I don’t regret my past, either, since this is where it took me.” He pulled Spock against him in a fierce embrace, and once again they held one another in silence.

Then, Kirk spoke into Spock’s shoulder. “Actually, I really don’t regret any of my past affairs. They were what I needed at the time. And many of the women were kind, gentle. Good for me. I like to think that I was good for them, too. All of us need to reach out sometimes….” He was silent then, and there was an unasked question in the air.

Spock pulled back from their embrace, and caressed Jim’s face with the tips of his fingers. He was trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile. “James Kirk, you are truly impossible. If you wish to hear about my previous experiences with women, why do you not ask me? There is no need to be ‘subtle.’ I trust you with my body, why would I not trust you with my memories as well?”

Kirk stopped trying to look serious and gave a little chuckle instead. It transformed him suddenly into a little boy. Spock had to restrain the urge to ask him to do it again. Jim had so many different personas: captain, friend, leader, little boy, and now, lover. Spock shook his head and sighed. It would take him many years to catalog and experience them all to the fullest. He only hoped he would be given the opportunity to do so.

Kirk sat up now in bed, propped the pillow up against the headboard and leaned back against it. He looked down and said, “I’m ready. Tell me all about it. Or them.”

Spock sighed again and pushed up until he was sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed. Kirk was obviously determined and would not be distracted from this topic. And although a part of Spock shied away from speaking of such intimate matters to his captain, another part reveled in this additional evidence of their closeness. Lovers spoke to one another of such things. And the realization that they were lovers still had the power to send an inexplicable thrill throughout his body.

“I am sure you will be disappointed at what I have to say. There is in truth very little of substance to report. I have joined with six women in my lifetime. Once was at the academy, when I was anxious to experience my previously forbidden humanity in all its facets. Then….”

Kirk interrupted. “You mean you got involved with a woman at the academy? I can hardly believe it!”

Spock ignored the teasing tone. “Nevertheless, it is true.” He cocked his head to one side and seemed to be dispassionately remembering. “My relationship with Robin was of several months’ duration. She was an upperclassman, about to graduate, and I was in my first year. You must remember my situation at the time.” Kirk had no doubt that Spock was referring to his estrangement from Sarek and consequently from his mother as well. It was still a painful memory.

Spock continued, “I have little doubt that Robin represented in a curious way a combination of the older guidance to which I was accustomed and the tantalizing lure of all that I had been forbidden. The relationship was quite fascinating. I was overwhelmed by the physical sensations that I had never experienced before. For the duration, I was….” Spock was reluctant to use the word consumed, although that was in truth the accurate term to describe his behavior, “…preoccupied with my body to a previously unknown extent. My exploration of my emotions took considerably longer to conduct, as you know. It has not, in fact, concluded yet.” Spock returned his gaze from his inward reverie and looked at Jim. “Is that a sufficient explanation?”

Kirk stretched a bit against the pillow, even going so far as to wriggle his toes. “I suppose for now it is. Did it hurt when you broke up? Uh…ceased your relationship?”

Spock looked indulgent. “I know what it means, Jim.” He reached out to grab the foot so close to him and shook it a few times back and forth, an affectionate gesture done just to see Jim laugh. That accomplished, he released the appendage and continued. “Looking back at the situation now, I believe that there was some emotional upset involved in the cessation of our affair. However, I was quite naive at the time and unable to catalog the many emotions assailing me. I thought at the time that Robin might simply have been curious about my non-human nature, and had indulged in a relationship with an ‘alien’ through idle curiosity. The thought did not bother me, as curiosity is something with which I am quite familiar, and the emotions that generally accompany a close liaison were beyond me at the time. From the perspective of many years, however, I do believe she held me in quite some affection, and her graduation and assignment to a starbase an unwelcome interruption of our relationship.” Spock paused for a moment, to allow his inquisitive bedmate the chance to ask more questions, but Jim was silent. The easy way with which Jim was greeting these revelations was reassuring, and allowed Spock to continue.

“After the academy, I found very little time for explorations of a personal nature, since I was intent on my career. I am afraid that I was quite illogically attempting to learn and do everything at once.” Kirk murmured his understanding. It was a common failing of overeager cadets, and Spock had more to prove than most.

“After I was posted on board the _Enterprise_ , however, there was the opportunity for more relaxed study, and a more measured assessment of what I hoped to accomplish. I began to become comfortable with myself, in a way that I had not experienced before. I deemed my sexual experiences at the academy to be incomplete, since they had not been accompanied by any true understanding of the psychological changes that such a relationship must necessarily entail. So, while on extended leaves from the ship, I duplicated the experience, to the best of my ability, as a matter of self-exploration. Twice.”

Kirk was grinning broadly. “Duplicated the experience? You mean, you seduced some poor, innocent wretches with your gorgeous pointed ears?” He sat up and leaned over to grab one ear and give a tug.

Spock shook the hand off and looked shocked. “Indeed not. The women involved were not young and innocent. I had no desire to, as they say, ‘break hearts.’ And it was not my ears alone they thought were gorgeous.” Now Spock looked smug.

Kirk gave a shout of laughter and launched himself at his lover. Spock put his hands out to protect himself from the flying body, and fell over backwards off the bed with Kirk firmly on top. A loud “Uumphh!” escaped both bodies before Kirk planted his elbows on Spook’s chest and wriggled up for a laughter-tinged kiss.

“I’ll bet the women were gorgeous too,” he gasped. “And I bet they couldn’t wait to get their hands on you. Just,” Kirk leaned forward again and sensuously licked one earlobe, “like I can’t get,” he shifted to give equal attention to the other ear, “enough of you either.” He ended his assault with a loving open-mouthed kiss.

Spock sucked Kirk’s tongue into his mouth and concentrated on feeling Kirk’s body above him in all its masculine assertiveness. This was unlike any other of the bodies that had caressed his. This was hard and strong, certain and dominant, and Spock knew he enjoyed such sensations in a way he had never enjoyed his encounters with women. Last night, when he had passively endured his captain’s loving ministrations, he had been more fiercely aroused than he could ever remember. And the wondrous aftermath of languor, and trust, and whispers in the night could have been shared with none other. He fervently desired to repeat the experience over and over again.

Their kiss showed signs of turning very passionate, and Spock became aware of his growing erection. Jim’s too. He broke off, gasping just a bit, and suggested, “I do believe we would be more comfortable on the bed, Jim.”

“What’s the matter? Not willing to share a little adventure with your captain?” And Kirk positively waggled his eyebrows.

In retaliation, Spock swiftly stood, scooped Kirk up in his arms and dumped him on the bed. He towered over the smaller man for a moment, and then deliberately reached to strip off his clothing before carefully lowering himself over Kirk’s body.

Spock supported himself on his elbows as he looked at his lover’s face beneath him. Kirk’s eyes were glowing as he looked back. Spock traced the line of both eyebrows with his fingertip, then carefully examined the curve of each ear. Finally, he spoke. “It cannot be denied that my experiments with women were not a success. I was foolish to believe that emotional responses could be so arranged. However, I do believe I have found what I was looking for. You.”

They took a long time touching each other then. Their relationship was still so new that each time together was still an event, and each man wanted tonight to be one to remember for a long while. A strange languor possessed them. Hands moved slowly, lips breathed softly, tongues caressed in long, leisurely swipes. Spock made a ritual out of undressing Jim, worshipping the body uncovered bit by bit. Time seemed to stand still as the light from the firepot flickered and glowed on their gently entwined bodies. A different kind of reality took command of them; the reality of shared sighs, tingling delights, whispered sounds of incoherent love. It was more than Jim had ever known with a lover; it was more than Spock had ever dreamed was possible with another being. Each gesture became a caress, each murmur an endearment. They danced in a dance the universe had choreographed millennia ago, they were partners bound together by a love created before the first hydrogen atom was born.

Kirk remembered how he had discovered the surprising sensitivity of Spock’s testicles just the previous night, and he set out to map out other secrets of his lover’s body. He started with the elegantly pointed ears; he had wanted to explore them their first time together, but had been distracted by other things. Now he licked and tongued along the outer edge, and was satisfied when he felt Spock shiver beside him.

“Do you like that?” he whispered, then blew along the wet trail he had left.

“You know that I do,” his lover replied. Then, “Do you?”

“Why don’t you find out?” Kirk challenged softly, and turned on his side to give Spock access.

After that it became a game, a gently played, quiet, intimate little game. Jim touched Spock, then Spock touched Jim, reflecting each other’s movements, initiating a little something more, moving in slow motion across sensitive necks, down both arms, across so different torsos.

Kirk drew in his breath and shivered when his lover breathed on the soft flesh just above his pubic hair. “You are sensitive here,” Spock murmured, then bent to trail little kisses from one hipbone to another. Kirk closed his eyes and let his head fall back limply into the pillow.

A reciprocal caress drew little reaction from his bedmate. “Not for you, here?” he asked, pausing to look up into the soft brown eyes.

“No. But,” Spock rolled over onto his stomach, “the hollow of the back is considered an erogenous zone for Vulcans.”

Kirk examined what he had been offered. A few wispy hairs grew within the twin indentations just below the waist. He touched the smooth skin, and rubbed one hand flat across the undulating surface.

“How’s this?” he whispered.

“That is…quite pleasant. Please continue.”

It turned into a backrub. Kirk’s fingers skimmed all over the shoulders, down the line of backbone, across to define the narrow waist, then down and across to the special area that seemed to be both comforting and erotic for the man lying before him. Spock sighed, a wonderful sound that told of comfort, content, belonging, and Kirk silently rejoiced at the peace they were finding with each other. Each discovery he made about Spock’s body seemed to bring them closer together, each bound them with secrets of the flesh, and desires of the soul.

But languor deserted them both when Kirk finally turned that body over and wrapped his hand around a firm green-tinged cock. The searing sensation of pleasure that shot through Spock was like a thunderbolt that awakened him from a dream-filled sleep. He half-started up in bed with a gasp, and moaned as Kirk began to milk his hardness.

“Yes, yessss….” he hissed, and thrashed his head back and forth on the pillow. His hands gripped the sheets in abandon. Words without thought flowed from the depths of his being. “Do that to me, do it! Uhhhh….” He released all his breath as Jim stripped him from base to aching tip, then gasped it in again when fingers encircled him between widely flared double ridges. “Touch me, please touch me, take me. Jim, oh please take me….”

Kirk’s hand froze as he heard those words, and Spock’s slitted eyes flew open to meet his lover’s. Momentarily, the room was very quiet.

“We don’t have to, you know.” Kirk spoke softly. 

“I am aware of that. However, we discussed last night….”

“But that was last night. This is now. What do you want?”

Spock wondered if he dared to disclose the depths of his desires. How very much he wanted to experience Jim within his body, to feel the hard driving flesh becoming a part of him. His soul yearned for this possession by the man who had captured his affection-starved being. He owed Jim for so much. The final unfurling of his confidence. The incomparable touch of friendship. Slowly growing understanding of the so-elusive emotion of love. And now that they were lovers, he ached to merge himself in an ultimate physical union. Would Jim be repelled by this need?

Kirk saw the doubt in the dark eyes and misinterpreted it. He released his grasp on the cock and reached up instead to thread his fingers through the still-neat bangs. “We won’t if you don’t want to, love. It’s just that, well, we’ll have to eventually, at least you will, when you go through pon farr. You’ll need it then. So I want you to at least get used to the idea.”

Spock grabbed the muscled arm as it began to withdraw from the caress. “And you,” he whispered intently, “what do you want, Jim? Please, tell me.”

“Besides pleasing you?” Kirk grinned ruefully. “I can’t help myself, Spock, I’d really like to make love to you that way. I’ve loved like that for so long, sinking myself into women, it’s more than natural instinct, it’s an ingrained habit. But don’t worry,” he hastened to reassure, “it’s not necessary for me. I’ll feel just as good loving you in other ways.” He hoped his friend wouldn’t see the effort those untruthful words had cost him.

Spock released his hold on Kirk’s arm only to possess his captain’s hand and place it firmly on his still-hard cock. “But it is necessary for me, Jim. I wish to experience every facet of physical union with you,” he took a deep breath, “especially that one. Please love me, Jim. Please, come inside me.”

Kirk could not stand to look in those softly glowing, beseeching eyes for long. He buried his face in Spock’s shoulder and promised, “Oh, I will, love. Oh, I want to so much.”

After a moment to gather his composure, Kirk reached for a tube from the nightstand. As he unscrewed the cap, he said, “I’ve only done this a few times before, with professionals. They’ve always done all the work, the preparation and all.” He sounded awkward and apologetic. “Whatever I do, don’t let me hurt you. Stop me if I do.”

Spock was watching Kirk’s hands intently as they squeezed some of the cream out onto the fingers and then onto a stiff human cock. He thought to spare a look at Jim’s face as his lover spread the substance around his erect member, and was caught by the brief expression of pleasure that small contact brought. What would Jim look like when….

“I wish to remain in this position,” he said firmly, knowing he must see his lover’s reactions. “After our discussion last night, I took the precaution of reviewing a basic tape on human sexuality, Jim. I believe that your practical experience and my formal knowledge will prevent any…mishaps.”

“All right,” Kirk grinned. “We’re in this together.” He maneuvered himself to a position between the long legs, which spread to accommodate him. “Lift up your legs a little. No, up to your chest, and spread them wide. I’ve got to put some of this inside of you. But first….” And he bent down to lovingly bestow a kiss on the puckered anus, which flared and then clenched at the moist, unexpected caress.

Kirk rubbed some cream all over his index finger, then looked at it with consideration, and shook his head. He re-coated his little finger then, and gently inserted it into the body of his lover. Spock was holding very still. His eyes slowly closed, the better to assimilate the indescribable sensations his brain was processing. Kirk rotated his finger a bit, withdrew for some more cream, and then inserted two together.

“Are you all right?” he breathed, not wanting to disturb the intense concentration he saw, but also wanting to share in this experience.

Brown eyes looked into his. Spock’s back arched just the littlest bit, and he thrust forward minutely onto the invading fingers. He nodded mutely, unable to find words.

Kirk withdrew his fingers and looked down at the object of his desire. The muscle had felt relaxed and pliant to him, but he’d never done this even to a woman before. He’d never had to take the responsibility. But now it was one he assumed willingly.

Kirk walked forward on his knees. “Put your legs over my shoulders,” he gasped, and he helped Spock get into position. “I’ll try to go slow,” he reassured.

“Do not be concerned, Jim. I desire this. Please proceed.” Spock’s voice was quivering. With desire?

The cock in his hand was slippery with the lubricant. Kirk leaned forward and placed its head against the now tightly clenched hole. He felt himself slipping forward just a bit and then was stopped by the puckered flesh. Already he was so excited he had to clamp down hard on his arousal. He’d come before they’d barely started if he didn’t work to divorce himself from the incredible sensations claiming his body. Just the sight of Spock laying open before him in this shocking, intimate way was enough to set him off. His Vulcan first officer, his best friend, under his body and waiting to be impaled with his cock. It was almost more than his fevered brain could bear.

He took a deep breath to distract himself and issue instructions, but before he could, Spock was also breathing deeply. And with the second exhalation, Kirk felt himself slipping forward half his length into the tight channel.

“Oh, God,” he said wildly, and lost his grip on the long legs to lean forward helplessly against the mattress. He groaned, “Oh, Spock, you feel so good.” There was nothing like it, nothing like it he had ever felt before. Kirk squeezed his eyes shut to cut off at least one avenue of sensation, but the tight, hot grip of Spock’s ass around his cock extended directly into his brain. overwhelming it with delight. He bore it with shudders and a fervent determination not to give in to his own completion, not yet, until finally he felt a small measure of control return. Kirk took a deep breath of relief, an action that moved his cock against the anal wall just a little, and sent sharp lines of electric pleasure through his body again, and an overpowering urge to move. To move!

But Kirk refused to give in. He willed his body to stillness until he had control once again, and then dared to open his eyes. His lover was staring up at him intently, and Kirk immediately knew the soft eyes had been on him from the beginning. He gave his love a quick, crooked smile. “Wow! You feel wonderful, Spock. So wonderful. Are you all right?”

Spock ran one hand up a tensed, straining arm, ending with a caress of Kirk’s shoulder. “Yes.” He was hoarse. “There was very little pain upon entry. Just a fullness.” He glanced along the length of his body, propped up on Jim’s thighs and shoulders, and found it difficult to assimilate the sight. His logical mind was short-circuited with sensations, and the intimacy of their position affected him most of all. Physically, he was giving Jim all could, and a great satisfaction settled over him at the thought.

Spock moved forward against the rod inside him just a bit. It truly did not cause him any pain, and the psychological aspects of the hardness within him were filling a deep need he had hardly been aware was there.

The small movement caused Kirk to gasp sharply and finally succumb to the temptation to move himself. They both looked as Kirk pushed forward another inch, withdrew almost the same amount, and then pushed forward a little more. It took three thrusts before his pubic hair was touching Spock’s buttocks, and he was fully sheathed.

Kirk looked up triumphantly. “I’m in, Spock!” He stared down at where they were joined, then threw his head back with closed eyes. Delight took final overpowering control, and he began to thrust in earnest. “Oh, God, Spock, I’m in you!” And he fell hopelessly, helplessly into climax.

 

*****

 

Hours later, Spock was still awake. He glanced at Jim softly breathing in his arms, and then back at the corner of the ceiling that had been the focus of his sight for the past sixty minutes. Try as he might, he could not compose his mind for sleep, and meditation was clearly equally impossible. He was awash with memory, consumed with echoes of the night.

The remembered cry of Jim’s exultation, the feel of the hard flesh moving against him, his own fierce joy as he felt his lover drive into his body and spurt his seed deep within. He remembered how his fierce rapture at being able to give Jim such pleasure had given way to a savage desire to know fulfillment himself. How Jim had thrown himself gasping to the bed, demanding to be taken, demanding to share his transcendent experience with Spock. The incredible joy of sinking into beloved flesh. His climax building, building, the body beneath him heaving against his, the strong arms grasping his shoulders, Jim calling his name as Spock shuddered in the grip of overriding passion and a desire to possess the man he loved, the being who gave him life….

Kirk stirred within his arms, and Spock realized he had tightened his grip until it must have been almost painful. He watched until the little lines on Jim’s forehead disappeared and his lover’s face was peaceful once gain. Not wanting to disturb the tranquil sleep, he reached out to touch that one constantly disarrayed lock of hair. Jim did not stir, and Spock settled to a loving contemplation of his lover’s face.

He knew that many people thought Jim was pleasing to look at. Spock had heard his captain described as handsome, or beautiful, had even once overheard some derogatory remarks at a starbase prefaced by “that pretty boy captain.” And looking at the sleeping face so close to him in the muted light, Spock had to admit that there was an aesthetically pleasing line to Jim’s face and form. He had noted it upon their first meeting, then filed it away as information that was of no consequence to him. When he recognized the astonishing affinity he shared with his captain during the first few weeks of their five year mission, Kirk’s physical attractiveness had certainly had nothing to do with it. He could not explain what had caused his young captain to reach out to the withdrawn Vulcan, or what within himself had encouraged him to respond to the unexpected overtures. But before the first month under the new captain’s command was over, Spock was in astonished possession of a friend.

The expansion of his world after that event was amazing, even to his calm, rational mind, perhaps especially to that mind. He had finally, truly opened his being to the myriad possibilities of human relationships, and he did not regret it. His world had expanded far beyond the scientific facts and sterile relationships it had known before, and he had entered into interactions that previously he had only observed.

The decision to fairly explore the many facets of his human heritage represented, he believed, the final flowering of his own unique personality. Perhaps his previous efforts had foundered on his own immaturity and lack of experience, and perhaps because he had lacked the firm foundation of a supporting friendship like Jim’s. At any rate, that decision had certainly led to this night and the precious responsibility of watching over his loved one’s sleep. As well as the ability to finally, silently admit that Jim was indeed beautiful.

Warmth stole over him as Jim stirred and put out a hand that settled close to one pointed ear. Jim had been fascinated with his ears tonight and had spent long delightful minutes tonguing all around and sucking on the lobes and tips. Most of Spock’s other partners had been equally captivated; but there was such a difference between the touch of those almost-strangers and Jim’s caress.

However, there were other aspects of tonight’s activities that puzzled him. The concurrent desires to be possessed and to possess should have been contradictory, and yet they were not. He had fiercely wanted Jim inside of him and had gloried without inhibition in the driving force of the stiff cock plundering his body. It had been an unforgettable experience.

But that had not been all. He was almost shocked to remember the eagerness with which he had straddled Jim’s body, the single-minded need he had succumbed to when he entered the tight cavity, the wondrous image he’d had of truly having command over the wildly encouraging human. That need to possess was a part of him, too. It was a part of his Vulcan biological heritage. The fires of pon farr burned not just every seven years, but flickered deep in each individual cell of his body always. And he refused to allow himself to feel ashamed. Jim had clearly welcomed the reversal of their roles. Had become incoherent in his passionate acceptance of Spock in him, had actually whimpered in his delight. No, Jim had wanted Spock just as Spock had wanted him. They each fulfilled a need within the other.

Spock’s thoughts rested for a moment on his next pon farr, then skittered determinedly away. However, it was difficult not to worry about that inevitable biological event. With a flush, he remembered what Jim had said. “We’ll have to eventually.” Jim, saying they would still be together for Spock’s next time of madness.

With the sixth sense that every sentient being develops, Spock became aware that he was being watched. He turned to find sleepy hazel eyes regarding him solemnly.

“I’m serious, you know.”

One eyebrow arched in astonishment. “And since when have you numbered telepathy among your accomplishments?”

Kirk removed one hand from its resting place on the hairy chest to gently touch the forehead. “Since I wake up to see lines right here,” he moved his fingers lightly across so-even bangs, “and here,” then down to the frown lines between brown eyes, “and you staring at the ceiling looking worried.” He propped himself up on one elbow. “Don’t worry. Whatever it is, we’ll face it. I love you. Now, give me a kiss and be happy.” And he leaned forward to capture Spock’s lips in a gentle caress.

They settled down next to each other on their sides, their arms and legs entangled, their spirits quiet. Spock sighed and wondered how any of this could have happened, and wondered too at the joy one man could bring to his life. His hand reached up to tangle in Jim’s hair, and he looked to see the now familiar half-smile that occurred every time he succumbed to this temptation. Their eyes stayed locked, and the amusement turned to love, and promises of the future they would not speak of.

“I will not worry,” Spock whispered. “And…I am happy.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Jim! Wait up!” McCoy quickened his pace to catch up with the quickly striding captain.

Kirk obligingly turned and waited for the doctor, then they continued walking down the corridor together.

“News about the marines?” Kirk queried.

“Yeah. Thought I’d tell you I examined the last one an hour ago. I can only certify thirty of them fit for duty, just like we suspected. This bug they picked up on their last mission is a nasty one.” McCoy was definite.

“But it’s not contagious?” The last thing Kirk wanted to do was conduct a hazardous mission with thirty beings who could come down with the “Creeping Crud,” as the crew had called the illness, at any time.

“No. And you don’t have to worry about the health of the thirty I’ve certified.”

They turned a corner and headed for the turbolift. McCoy continued, “I guess this means you’ll be going ahead with your plans to fill in for the sick marines with our own Security people?”

Kirk nodded. “Right. I think we need sixty people at least to find and possibly assault any installation the Johnson Combine and the Orions might have on the Ag Colony, but no more than that to make the group manageable and mobile.”

McCoy cocked an eyebrow. “Right out of the textbooks from Starfleet Academy?”

Kirk gave a short laugh, appearing a little distracted. “No, right out of my own common sense. And Commander Salazar’s, too.”

McCoy had been doubtful about this expedition from the very beginning. Seemed like lately all he did was ask “why?” “And N’Kara’s too, I suppose,” he said sourly.

“No, once we decided to return to the Ag colony, N’Kara left all the strategy and tactics to me. He’s what I’d call a sensible admiral. Remembers what it was like when he was on the line, even when he’s giving orders from Starbase Fifteen.”

“Nothing like Komack.”

“Thank God.” Just about everyone on the ship shared a mutual dislike for the inflexible admiral. “He would have had us talking for days before he made a decision.”

“N’Kara was quick.”

Kirk shrugged. “Not much to decide, really. We need to know for sure what’s on that planet. I just wish we could have gone straight there, instead of detouring to Argun VII for the marines.”

The two of them approached the turbolift. “Jim, if you don’t mind revealing top secret information….” Kirk cast him an inquiring eye.

“…where the hell are we going?”

They stepped into the lift, and Kirk directed the computer, “Shuttlecraft bay.” He turned to McCoy. “I want to check the shuttles. Fraser’s finishing up on them now.”

“Oh.” They rode for a few seconds in silence. McCoy had been cooped up in the sickbay for hours, diagnosing and caring for the sick marines, certifying their comrades for this expedition. He was grateful for the opportunity to stretch his legs a little, and decided to accompany Kirk on his inspection.

He looked at Kirk out of the corner of his eye. Jim seemed to be tense, a bit strung out. Unusual. Come to think of it, despite the hurried conference on the starbase, the mad rush to pick up the marines, and the intense planning since then, Jim had lately seemed to be uncommonly relaxed. Was he now just nervous about this mission, or had something happened to put the captain on edge?

“It’s only been six days, Jim,” McCoy said with sudden insight.

“A lot can happen in six days, Bones.” McCoy knew Kirk was thinking of the missing Vulcans.

The _Galileo_ and the _Columbus_ were both in the center of the shuttle bay. Technicians were busy adjusting something to the rear of each craft, and there was a pile of padded seats and other equipment off to one side. The shuttles were being stripped to accommodate thirty people each.

“Fraser?” Kirk called. His voice echoed a bit in the large room.

“Right here, Captain,” Fraser stuck his head out of the _Galileo’s_ hatch, then disappeared back inside.

Kirk clambered on board and started to consult with the maintenance chief about some technical details. McCoy poked his head inside to see the bare floor, then withdrew to walk around the craft. It was going to be a tight fit, but Sulu, who was probably the best pilot around, and Scotty, who knew his equipment like his own face, had both assured the captain that the shuttles were capable. And much safer than exposing the _Enterprise_ to detection by whatever sensors the colony or anybody else on the planet might have.

McCoy had volunteered to go along, although the thought of hiking through the Ag Colony’s desert looking under rocks for Orions was not too appealing. But the marines had a perfectly competent and healthy doctor among their number, so Kirk had firmly turned him down.

McCoy wandered over to the _Columbus._ Two technicians were just closing the engine cover; another was swabbing up some grease that was on the floor. Just about ready to go, McCoy guessed.

Kirk came over to stand beside him, running professional eyes over the craft. “Gonna take Sulu to pilot?” McCoy queried.

“No. He just got back with Dawson, you know. Spock and I can handle it.” The message that the computer system on the Johnson Combine’s Agricultural Colony #7 was in need of repairs had reached the ship just as the _Enterprise_ achieved orbit about Starbase Fifteen. The prearranged message had been the final confirming piece of evidence for N’Kara. So Sulu and Dawson had been sent in a civilian shuttle on a clandestine visit to the Ag Colony. They had posed as computer contract workers in an attempt to get more information from Storm and T’Pring, and hopefully remove them from any danger.

But the two Vulcans were not on the colony, according to a pinched-faced Wade Johnson. They had hopped a passing freighter and returned to their home planet, he complained, violating their contracts and confirming his belief that no alien could be trusted.

It was apparent to McCoy now that Kirk had taken the news about the Vulcans’ disappearance hard. “Worried about Storm and T’Pring?” he guessed, as they both walked towards the _Columbus’s_ ramp. All the technicians had finished and withdrawn.

“You know I am.” A quick frown, then a steadying breath. “They’re probably dead. Or, if they’re lucky,” a laugh that had no humor, “they’re slaves somewhere. That’s the general pattern for Orions, isn’t it? Of course, they have me to thank for it.”

McCoy stopped dead in his tracks in surprise. “You? Jim, what are you talking about? You told me they had agreed to stay on the planet. They knew the risks.”

Kirk’s eyes were bleak. “And I was perfectly happy to let them stay there, wasn’t I? I didn’t push for them to come aboard.”

It wasn’t hard for McCoy to follow Kirk’s train of thought. “Because of Spock.” It wasn’t a question.

Kirk’s voice was very low as he stared at the deck. “Can you imagine, Bones, what it must have been like for him? Always trying to be the perfect Vulcan for his father, never measuring up? Never quite being good enough?” They’d had this conversation once before, right after Spock’s pon farr, as Kirk had desperately tried to find a way to help the withdrawn Vulcan. McCoy remembered the occasion perfectly, as it had struck him as being quite incongruous, with Kirk sitting up on the operating table being prepped for the removal of the scar across his chest, talking so seriously about the man who had given it to him.

Kirk was continuing. “He was rejected for choosing an honorable career. And then that bitch T’Pring took away the bonding that could have given him so much.” Kirk’s voice became reflective, almost as if he were talking to himself, as if each word were a new discovery he was making. “I don’t know how he managed to stay so strong. That bonding would have finally connected him with his own world, with Vulcan. It would have given him…stability. Belonging. Where can he get that now?”

McCoy had no idea where all of this was coming from. He’d thought they were just inspecting the shuttles.

“Right here with us, on the _Enterprise_?” he supplied tentatively.

“But how can we replace a whole world? A whole culture? And is it fair to even try?”

The physician had never quite understood the friendship between his captain and the first officer, and he certainly didn’t understand why they were standing in the middle of the shuttle bay talking so intensely about Spock now. This business with the Vulcans had obviously dredged up all Kirk’s concern for his friend. But McCoy’s lack of understanding didn’t preclude him from trying to relieve pain wherever his compassionate heart saw it. “You really hurt for Spock, don’t you?”

Kirk cast a quick, almost startled glance at McCoy. “Wouldn’t be much of a friend if I didn’t, would I?”

McCoy was determined to pursue this, despite the offhand comment. “But that’s no reason to blame yourself for whatever’s happened to those blasted Vulcans.”

Kirk smiled at McCoy’s vehemence, but shook his head. “Don’t be too quick to absolve me, Father Confessor. I’m only human. There’s such a thing as anger, and spite….”

“Hell, Jim, I’ve never known you to allow personal considerations—” What personal considerations? McCoy thought wildly to himself. What are we talking about? “—to intrude on your professional decisions. You know leaving Stonn and T’Pring on the colony was the only way we’d get more information. We didn’t have any suspicions that the Orions were involved at the time.” When the stubborn look on Kirk’s face didn’t change, McCoy tried another approach. He shook his head. “You certainly aren’t being very logical.”

As McCoy had suspected it would, the carefully chosen words at least changed Kirk’s frown into a short laugh. “Now that,” as he turned and looked at the _Columbus_ again, “is advice I can’t take from you. Physician, heal thyself.”

“Heal thyself!” McCoy exclaimed indignantly. “If I were any more logical I’d be a Vulcan! Doctors aren’t trained in a cabbage patch, you know.” Kirk snorted. “And neither are starship captains.”

Kirk looked at him steadily for a moment, then threw up his hands in surrender. “Okay, I give up. I’ll be logical. But knowing I did the right thing with Stonn and T’Pring doesn’t stop me from wanting to find them alive.”

“If they’re on the colony, you will, Jim. I’m sure of it.” McCoy tried to project his very real confidence in his commander and friend.

“Yeah. Hopefully, we’ll find some Orions, too.”

McCoy nodded quickly, not wanting to disagree, but cringing inside at the thought of how those Orions might be found. There was an excellent chance that he would be busy in sickbay after this mission. Bad enough to have to work on the damaged bodies of strangers, but knowing it could be one of his friends was always worse.

“So you’re not taking Sulu, then. Just the Security people, and Spock?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And you, of course.”

“You’d prefer I stay with the _Enterprise_ hiding in an asteroid belt?”

Kirk’s presence on the expedition had become a foregone conclusion once it became obvious they’d have to use the ship’s security. And now with the Vulcans missing, McCoy had a feeling nothing could have stopped him.

“I’d prefer you’d be careful and come back in one piece.”

The captain gave him an ironic look. They’d had this conversation many times before. “You know I’ll do my best,” he said lightly.

McCoy was not mollified by the offhand tone. “I don’t know why I worry about you. Spock’s going with you. He’s always around to haul your ass out of the fire.”

Kirk seemed to choke a bit, then walked up the rampway to the shuttle. He turned at the hatch. “He’s good at that, isn’t he?” he said with a grin, then disappeared inside.

McCoy folded his arms in feigned disgust, leaned against a strut, and sighed. He decided to wait where he was. Waiting. Seemed he did an awful lot of that. Hoped the wait wouldn’t be too long this time. Hoped they found those two blasted Vulcans, an abandoned Orion installation, and got back home fast. Hoped they wouldn’t get hurt this time. Hoped they’d take care of each other.


	14. Chapter 14

The planet was just as bad as they had expected. A hot, bright, dusty place with myriad traps for the unwary, like the rows upon rows of cultivated cabbage-like plants that sported innocent-looking spikes, one of which had already penetrated the boot of a now-limping marine. Or the regularly spaced clumps of yellow gourds that, when crushed by an unsuspecting foot, sent forth noxious fumes that choked and blinded. Worst of all were the clouds of swirling dust that would be stirred up unexpectedly by a drying wind to obscure the vision and disorient the mind. Or maybe it was the hot sun that burned into his eyes even when they were closed. Kirk wasn’t sure which annoyance was the worst. He only knew this was no picnic he was on, and it wasn’t anything like Iowa.

Probably nothing like Vulcan either, Kirk thought, and glanced across to where Spock was walking thirty feet away. When they had reached this broad expanse of uncultivated area, he had ordered their force to deploy seven or eight abreast and the same number deep. They were moving swiftly over the uneven land, making good time despite the many boulders that blocked their way and the undulations of the dry soil. It was clear why this part of the planet had not been chosen for cropland.

Kirk reached up to try to wipe some of the perspiration from his eyes. Despite the soft headcovering they all wore, some of the sweat was still dripping annoyingly. Now Spock, he thought, glancing at him again, looked like he was out for a hike on a spring day, and not lugging a pack over rough terrain.

It was just bad luck, and geography, that they had to endure these desert conditions at all, and not just beam in close to where they wanted to go. They couldn’t afford to have the _Enterprise’s_ distinctive bulk detected by whatever sensors the colony possessed. So they’d ridden in from the asteroid belt 600 million kilometers away, on the two stripped down shuttlecraft loaded to capacity, keeping the planet between them and the small settlement. Spock believed that any hidden installation would have to be hidden in the low mountain range about forty kilometers from the base camp of the colony. But their plans of landing on the other side of the mountain range were skewered by the presence of the only body of free water on the planet. The briny sea was curved in a loving embrace around the peaks; on the other side of the mountains was the settlement they must avoid to maintain secrecy. The shuttles couldn’t risk landing close to that or the cultivated areas where they might be detected, so Kirk had been forced to give orders to land many kilometers from their objective. And once they reached the aged peaks, they’d have to rely on observation, astute deduction, and Lady Luck to find any sign of an underground facility.

The strategists on Starbase Fifteen had been divided over what they’d find on the Ag Colony: a warehouse filled with drugs and parts ready for shipment to the Orions, a military base preparing for an Orion invasion of Federation space, or a drug manufacturing facility. Because of the presence of Wade Johnson on the planet, Kirk was betting on the latter, but any evidence of Johnson Combine treachery would be good enough for him.

Kirk stumbled over a sharp-edged rock that seemed to cut right through the sole of his boot. He regained his balance quickly and continued on with determination. But the action had diverted his mind from consideration of the Orions, and the Johnson Combine. Now he remembered his early morning conversation with Spock.

Spock hadn’t wanted him to accompany the marines to the colony, and had spoken about it a final time as they were dressing together that morning. Kirk had known his first officer would oppose his plan, and that they would have yet another discussion about the prerogatives of command and the illogic of some of Kirk’s own choices. That particular conversation seemed to be an inevitable part of their relationship whether they were lovers or not.

Spock had been right in pointing out his own suitability for this mission. His desert heritage and the political realities of his being a Vulcan in search of other Vulcans had been factors N’Kara hadn’t missed. It had been assumed from the beginning that Spock would go. Kirk’s own presence had been more problematic, and Spock hadn’t hesitated to point out several logical reasons for him to stay with the _Enterprise_.

But the argument had been half-hearted. Spock had known from the beginning that his words were utterly unlikely to convince Kirk, and he had subsided into a quiet breakfast and a silent final briefing. The marines who were present must have thought that the two of them barely communicated with each other.

Which had been ironic, since lately their communication had been so intense. Glancing once again towards where Spock was walking with long strides over the desert, Kirk could hardly believe that this determined looking Starfleet officer was the man who laid in his arms in the night. Sex had become a wonderful pleasure that neither of them seemed willing to do without, although their duties so far still hadn’t allowed them as much time as they wanted together. It sometimes seemed to a wondering Kirk that he would never get as much of Spock as he wanted.

But it had been much more than just the physical. They had taken to melding before or after almost every physical encounter, and Kirk had been consistently overwhelmed by their life there. He loved being surrounded by the green glowing light and the flashing color of their mental joining. He loved seeing Spock pull down the wall of his reticence stone by stone, and sharing in the memories that floated down on them. And he even loved being there when, despite all their efforts, the wall stayed stubbornly intact, and the green air took on a tinge of melancholy. No one else could comfort his friend at times like those, or help absorb the frustration that gave the air between them an acrid, bitter odor. It had only happened twice, but the last time Kirk had been able to reassure a disappointed Spock that he could wait, would wait for as long as it took until all that was behind the wall was released. The burning crimson streak that shot off into the air like a firework display had been Spock’s incredibly grateful reply, and they had loved that night with fierce tenderness.

Yes, feeding Spock’s love-starved soul and being nourished in return had been incredibly fulfilling to the human who had thought love held no more surprises for him. But love did. What he felt for Spock possessed him more each day. It was hard to define, impossible to explain even to himself. He only knew that sharing mental and physical intimacy with Spock took his breath away. To be permitted to share in this most wonderful man’s inmost being, to bring him to passion and give him pleasure was filling Kirk up with fight and brightness. It was as if he carried a part of the meld with him all time.

Kirk felt himself getting tangled up in the gentle soul in a way he had never wanted to entwine with anyone else. All those times he’d loved before, he’d never looked at the future and seen himself still with his lover. There’d always been the lure of space, of his career, and then the _Enterprise_ to take him away. But now a future without Spock was unthinkable. With Spock he could have everything: the love, the beauty, and the ship that was so much a part of him as well.

And a part of Kirk was proud at his own inner growth. Before, making a commitment to someone had been inconceivable; now, it was what he fervently wished to do some day, with Spock.

But along with what he felt was a new emotional maturity, there was a greater ability to understand as well. How could there not be, when his soul had become wrapped up with another’s? The news that had just come about Stonn and T’Pring had started a disturbing chain of thought: was what he offered Spock enough? He could give only a very human kind of love, nothing like the centuries of tradition that joining with a Vulcan woman would provide. His hopefully enigmatic conversation with McCoy right before they’d left had been the result of a day’s worth of intent reflection.

Was it the right thing to be tearing down this wall within Spock? At the time, it had seemed to be what they both wanted, and necessary. But the very fact that Kirk had transformed it from the unscalable Vulcan edifice to a simple Iowa garden wall bothered him. Spock was Vulcan, by training and choice, and Kirk didn’t want to change him or upset whatever equilibrium his friend had achieved that allowed him to function. What could replace the tidy structure within Spock that had been built to allow his friend to withstand a universe that hurt him?

This wasn’t a love affair like any other Kirk had blithely enjoyed in the past. For the first time in his life, he was serious; and seriously, lover-like, as he trudged over the dry, undulations of this desert world, he worried about his lover instead of himself. He thought with a bittersweet pang of how very much he loved Spock, and yet knew that he would sacrifice even his own love to give Spock happiness.

For there was no doubt that if they were to stay together, Spock would have to sacrifice, beyond what he would give up by allying himself with a human and not a Vulcan. Along with all the other rejections he had accumulated throughout his life, there would come all the additional rebuffs a relationship such as theirs would entail. From those who had prejudices against a love between two males, from those, like the Johnson Combine people, who wouldn’t countenance a union between two different species, from Starfleet Command, who would surely question even an informal alliance between two command officers. The fact that Kirk himself would have to endure the barbs and jabs aimed at them didn’t even penetrate the surface of this thoughts. He knew his own strengths, and what he wanted. But was it right to ask so much from Spock?

Kirk climbed over a small rock in his way and was able to see clearly to the horizon from his elevated position. The troop still had a ways to go before they reached the foothills. He restrained himself from looking over again for his first officer, and took the memory of their last time together as a substitute instead. Spock’s eyes had been glowing with so much love after their lovemaking, the definite evidence of a smile had been on his face as Kirk had come into the shelter of the welcoming arms. They had relaxed together in warmth and security, talked a little about this expedition, and fallen asleep in quiet satisfaction.

That, Kirk realized with absolute clarity, he would have a very hard time giving up. For balanced against the mythical happiness he was imagining for Spock within Vulcan’s arms, was the very real happiness he knew he was giving his most beloved friend now. The feelings within the meld could not be feigned, and they were matched by the contentment he saw in his lover’s eyes. What was it he had said within the meld? That he would wait, however long, for the conflicts within Spock to be reconciled. And Spock, saying on their first time together that he would not deny either of them the happiness they could bring to one another.

Kirk looked up at the cloudless sky as if he were emerging from a long tunnel. He always felt better upon making a decision, and now his introspective mood brightened with his determination not to lose the happiness they already had. He wanted to see those brown eyes glow, he wanted to make their love strong enough to stand against anything. That was a goal worth striving for.

The person walking point, in this case a human female marine recommended to Kirk by Commander Salazar with a nod, called for a halt, and Kirk eased the pack from his back. He felt emotionally wrung out from his contemplations, and cast about for a way to reinvolve himself with the realities of their expedition.

Kirk cautiously took a sip from his canteen, and his eyes fell upon Commander Salazar. The commander of the marine force was an interesting person.

The stocky Marine was an older man with iron grey hair, and the strong hawk-like features that proclaimed Hispanic origins. He came from the colony of Nuevo Iberia, a harsh world that had a proud reputation of service in the Federation’s military. Salazar was a veteran of the peacekeeping force on Centex II, of the marine group that had been abandoned on Nola Ceasare V and forced into guerrilla action, of other actions N’Kara had not had time to relay. He came highly recommended by the canny admiral, and Kirk found that he liked the soft-spoken man.

Salazar outranked Spock and would have been in command of the joint venture if Kirk had not inserted himself. But the man had not shown any resentment, just calmly accepted the change and readjusted accordingly. He meshed remarkably well with Kirk’s command style. And Kirk intended to keep it that way by continuing to call on the older man’s expertise and listening to his advice. That Spock probably approved of his actions hardly crossed his mind. It seemed…logical.

He took another sparing sip from his canteen and then another look around. In the disguising desert garb that many of them wore, along with protective headgear, there was no way of telling who were marines and who were the contingent from the _Enterprise_. And Kirk was proud that their actions didn’t distinguish them either. He’d always been proud of the security teams from the ship; he knew Giotto ran a well-trained department. It took close examination to see any differences among the many beings around him at all. More than half of the team Giotto had selected for this mission was made up of the new non-human crew members they’d picked up not too long ago. Kirk had thought it quite ironic that it was Andorians, Vegans, Taureans and others, not to mention Vulcans, who comprised the force against the human only Johnson Combine. Served them right.

Kirk was distracted when he saw Salazar approaching him. They conferred for a moment on their route. Salazar took the point this time, and Kirk fell easily into line four behind. They were in single file now, passing down a long arroyo that provided lots of cover and headed like an arrow towards the mountains. The white hot sun was obscured by the high sides of the ravine, and they hiked mainly through shadow.

Kirk was examining an unusual-looking scrub tree when he saw Salazar at the head of the line stop abruptly, then rush forward. He was instantly on the alert and brushed past the man and two women who were heeding Salazar’s whispered order to “stay put.”

It was one of the scouts they’d sent out ahead, a tall male in his forties whom Kirk knew only as Lieutenant Veronkon. He was half-propped against one of the boulders that had rolled down from the top of the arroyo long ago, his one leg stretched in front of him a bloodied mass, his head sagging forward onto a heaving chest. Salazar was kneeling beside him, so Kirk took up a defensive stance and searched the area with probing eyes. Once satisfied there was no immediate danger, he gestured to the first few people from the file to scout the area. Spock was one of those who disappeared down the ravine.

Kirk joined Salazar just as the medical officer hurried up.

“How is he?” Kirk asked tensely.

“I don’t know. Alive, at least,” Salazar answered while supporting his comrade’s head. “His leg looks like something took a bite out of it.”

Kirk looked down at the bloodied mess the doctor was carefully examining. Not a pretty sight. And now that he had the time to notice, the ground about Veronkon was blood soaked, too. No Orion weapon he knew of would leave such a wound.

The doctor looked up at Kirk while reaching for his pack. “Sir, this doesn’t look good. He’s lost a lot of blood. There’s no way he’ll be able to continue on with us, even assuming I can stabilize his condition and keep him alive.” The doctor’s attention shifted to Salazar. “Shouldn’t we tell Jack?” he asked, then turned back to his patient without waiting for an answer.

Salazar grimaced and shook his head. “Jack already knows,” he said, “he was the first one into the bush.

Kirk looked from one to the other, a little confused by this exchange, but his attention was quickly diverted by an Andorian who trotted quietly up to them, announcing, “We’ve found something.”

They followed her about twenty meters further down the gully. When she stopped, it was to join a group whose attention was riveted on a dark form lying on the ground. It was an animal, about four feet long excluding its blunt tail, and Spock was kneeling beside it, carefully running a tricorder above its body. Apparently, it was dead.

“What is it?” Kirk asked, dropping to his knees.

“This is the animal that attacked Lieutenant Veronkon. It bears a marked resemblance to the Glyptodonts that inhabited your Earth some 210,000 years ago, although it is somewhat smaller than those creatures.”

Kirk surveyed the animal with distaste. “It looks like a giant armadillo.”

“Quite correct.” They were carrying on this conversation as if they were the only ones there, and neither one of them noticed it. Kirk had asked for information, Spock was providing it. A routine as natural as breathing for both of them.

Spock continued, “Although the Glyptotherium floridanum that inhabited your Pleistocene Age was not meat eating, this animal apparently is. It also shows signs of burrowing abilities,” he indicated the sand covering the bristles and in the cracks of the pebbled shell, “and may have surprised Lieutenant Veronkon from a hunting position hidden in the sand.”

“How did it die?” Kirk asked. “Did Veronkon kill it’?

Spock reached to lift the head and indicated the phaser burn marks along the snout and one side. Vicious looking teeth were also visible. Some of them were marked with red stains. “The lieutenant must have been able to fire his weapon, and the animal staggered here before it died.”

Kirk looked up at the group now surrounding them. “Did any of you see any other signs of one of these things? There might be more of them.”

There were muttered negatives. Kirk had learned long ago that Security, and Marines, were a pretty silent group. Spock said, “I think not, Captain. The size of this creature and its assumed meat-eating proclivities would necessitate a fairly sizable hunting territory. We are not likely to encounter another such beast until we are further along the trail. We must alert all our personnel of the distinct possibility of such a danger as we traverse the area.”

Kirk regarded him with a small smile. “You mean, tell everyone to be careful.”

One careful eyebrow arched. “I believe that is what I said.”

Their byplay was interrupted by a brown-haired marine who hurried up to the group and spoke directly to Salazar. He’d been introduced to Kirk at the briefing as one of the more experienced officers. Even now he seemed to be exercising great restraint as he said, “Sir….” but his compact frame was filled with tension.

Salazar gently took the man’s arm. “He’s hurt, Jack, it’s hard to say how badly. It doesn’t look too good. I know you’ll want to stay with him, but….”

The stocky marine was shaking his head. “No, sir. I…I understand. We both understand what needs to be done. You know how long Sergei and I have been with the service.” The man took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “But with your permission, sir, I would like to see him now.”

Salazar jerked his head in the direction they had come from. “That way, twenty meters.”

They all watched the man go, then Kirk rose and turned his attention back to the animal lying before them.

Another distinctive phaser whine was a risk he was unwilling to take, so he gestured to the animal and said, “Let’s bury this thing before it attracts attention we don’t need.”

The group fell out with purpose, and Kirk, Spock, and Salazar walked slowly back towards the fallen man. Salazar spoke softly. “Jack and Sergei have been together a long time. Damn,” he shook his head, “it’s hard to see one of them hurt like this. It’s always harder when it happens to one of our pairs.”

Spock enquired, “I beg your pardon?”

Salazar turned in his direction. “There’s never anything official, because we aren’t sure of what Starfleet Command would think, since we’re on active duty. But when you serve with someone in a dangerous situation for a while, well, attachments develop. Sometimes it’s to someone of the same sex. Like Sergei and Jack.” The older man shrugged. “I’ve seen it often enough to know that love works the same way no matter what the gender, though. And Sergei and Jack are more of a couple than most married people I know.”

When they reached the spot where they had left the medical officer, the doctor was carefully composing Lieutenant Veronkon’s hands over his chest in the universal symbol of respect for the dead. The other Marine, Perkins, was standing by the body, his face twisted in a mask of grief.

“Oh, God,” Salazar groaned. Kirk recognized the sound. He’d uttered it himself more times than he wanted to remember.

Wordlessly, Kirk and Spock watched as Salazar walked over to the grieving Perkins and unselfconsciously engulfed him in his arms. The marine shuddered once, then turned his face into his commander’s shoulders and gave in to wracking sobs.

Embarrassed, Kirk wanted to look away, but found that he couldn’t. Seeing the two men comforting each other, one emotionally devastated, the other soothing him with gentle pats on the back, made him all the more conscious of Spock standing like a ramrod beside him. His friend must be acutely uncomfortable with the emotional scene, and yet Kirk knew that Spock understood it fully, and could sympathize with Perkins’ loss. He knew that Spock grieved for the loss of life; did he also identify himself, as Kirk did, with Perkins? It could just as easily have been one of them on the ground. Involuntarily, his eyes sought Spock’s for reassurance, to find the brown gaze looking back at him asking for the same.

Their wordless conversation was interrupted by the doctor. He came to stand next to them, shaking his head. “Sir,” he addressed Kirk, “there just wasn’t anything I could do. He’d lost too much blood and was just about dead when we found him. Those wounds were horrible.” He was carefully wiping his hands on a disinfecting cloth. He bent to tuck it into the pack he had carried with him, then rose and looked at Salazar, now speaking in quiet tones to a calming Perkins. “God, I just wish it hadn’t been one of them. Did Commander Salazar tell you?”

He looked uncertainly at both of them, but at Kirk’s matter-of-fact nod he continued. “They were both really special. They gave a sort of…permanence to our whole group.” He took a deep breath. “I feel so sorry for Jack. It must be horrible, losing someone you love so much. And they’d been together so long. For years. I’m glad I’ve never married. I couldn’t stand losing her, or hurting her when I go.”

“Yes,” Kirk said quietly. “I imagine it’s horrible.”

For the first time, Spock spoke. His voice was absolutely even as he said, “And yet, it would be illogical for emotional beings to deny themselves the comfort of an intimate relationship, merely because of the anticipation of loss. I do not believe that Lieutenant Perkins, even in his sorrow, would think that.”

The doctor looked at the Vulcan curiously, obviously surprised to hear a logical being speaking of emotion. “No, you’re right. Jack and Sergei were really happy, and so right for each other.” He shook his head reflectively, looking at the ground. “They were both survivors. You know, the kind of guys who always came out of a mission okay. They protected each others’ backs. Taught the younger ones a lot.”

Spock cocked his head to one side. “Doctor. I am curious. You speak as if both Lieutenant Veronkon and Lieutenant Perkins have died. And yet, only Veronkon has expired.”

The marine looked at Spock with sad eyes. “Commander, it’s a little hard to explain. In a way, more has died than just a person.” He turned back to look at the body. “Much more. But I know about your planet’s rules on emotion. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

Although it had been no more than a few minutes since Lieutenant Veronkon had died, and despite his fascination with Spock’s conversation with the medical officer, Kirk knew that they couldn’t afford to linger too long, not with planetary conditions still good for travel before the blazing heat of mid-afternoon. He hated to do it, but forced himself to approach Salazar, only to find him already talking to Perkins about the need to move on.

“What do you want us to do with the body, Jack? Did Sergei ever say?” The words were gently said. Salazar’s hands were still resting on Perkins’ shoulders.

Perkins’ blunt features twisted again for a moment in grief, but then with an effort even Kirk could see he forced his sorrow down. Kirk felt a surge of admiration. Despite the death of his lover, and his world being turned upside down, the man was a true professional.

But Kirk had to interrupt before Perkins could answer. Unfortunately, private wishes could not always be honored in combat situations.

“I don’t want to risk another phaser blast. We can’t disintegrate the body,” he said. Both Salazar and Perkins looked up at him as if surprised at his intrusion. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant Perkins, but we’ll have to bury him here. We’ll come back if it’s at all possible.” Kirk spoke as sympathetically as he could.

“I understand, sir.” Perkins seemed incapable of saying anything else at the moment, and Salazar motioned to the doctor to stand with the lieutenant while he organized the burial detail.

The burial was accomplished in just a few minutes. The body was wrapped up in blankets, Salazar murmured a few words about the comradeship of marines as they stood over the grave, and Perkins maintained a stony face throughout. If they had not witnessed his initial reaction by the body, they would not have known the turmoil he must have been hiding. As dirt was being swiftly piled on top, several of the marines went up to him and tried to speak, but Perkins waved them aside. Apparently, sympathy was something he was unable to tolerate; the illusion of calm was a fragile one.

They hiked for several more hours as the sun climbed to its zenith and the heat rose almost as high. The land changed in character as they traveled through it. The small pebbles that had hindered their balance so often gave way to much larger rocks. The bushes and scrabbly trees began to thin out, and the land began a gentle, at times imperceptible slope upwards. They were entering the foothills of the mountains they were aiming for, coming close to where they could legitimately start to look for evidence of some hidden installation.

Kirk called for a halt before they reached that point. Better to rest now, after more than seven hours of travel, and in the heat of the day, where they were still relatively sure of their safety. They’d been taking tricorder readings as they went, and no sign of other life forms, even of a Glyptodont, had registered. Apparently Lieutenant Veronkon’s phaser shot at the animal had not attracted the attention of any Orions in the area.

The troop was as silent as ever as they shucked themselves of their packs. They’d stopped where there was lots of protection from the sun from a series of towering boulders, and now they worked at setting up some of their blankets to provide even more shade. Spock and Salazar set up a rotating sentry duty to patrol the perimeter of the makeshift camp, and appointed several soldiers, both Marines and Security people, to take the first shift. Kirk noticed Perkins in low-voiced conversation with Salazar, then the man left with a satisfied stride to take up a sentry post.

Several of the marines seemed uninterested in food and spread a simple blanket on the ground to fall into an apparently instant sleep. The rest, including Kirk, elected to sample the unappetizing trail rations they had brought along first.

When Kirk was finished, he visited the designated latrine area and then returned to his pack. The emotions of the day along with the long hike combined to make him feel genuinely weary. Spock had elected to spread his pack near Kirk’s; the Vulcan was now sitting upright against a near-by large rock. He was staring at a clump of bushes immediately to Kirk’s right. Kirk wanted to say something to him, but he felt awkward with so many others around them. So he rolled over onto his improvised bed and tried to sleep instead.

Spock had found nothing to interest him in the totally ordinary group of bushes. He had been staring at his captain as the human had returned from the latrine and settled onto his blanket. When Kirk had turned his way, Spock had shifted his attention to the closest available point of interest. He wasn’t sure if his lover would appreciate the close scrutiny before so many others.

Silence settled over the camp. The sentries were invisible, the sleeping beings merely clumps of shadow that blended into the patterned ground. Spock had no desire to join the others in their slumber. He was not tired, and there was much to think about.

Ever since Jim had made that most effective transformation within the meld, Spock had been able to cautiously survey his own feelings. He found himself doing so at odd hours of the day, while working in the science lab, walking down a corridor, eating a meal. He took every opportunity to integrate what he was now feeling with his Vulcan personality. Now, he realized that he was sitting in the blazing heat of a desert planet, ready to face danger from an unknown enemy, aware of his responsibilities as an officer, and yet…still he experienced a solid glow of happiness within his being. It had been with him ever since he and Jim had shared their bodies, but only since the wall had started to crumble in his mind had Spock actually been able to experience it. Happiness. He touched it with his consciousness, as one would cautiously touch an aching tooth with a tongue. But the emotion did not harm him, did not overwhelm him. Happiness. He allowed it to settle over him like a warming blanket in the cold, and leaned back against the rock behind him as he contemplated it.

Before Jim’s arrival on the _Enterprise_ , he had not even known what happiness was. Satisfaction at a job well done, yes. Intellectual curiosity fulfilled, of course. But personal happiness? Only Jim had taught him that, little by little reaching beyond the shields that had kept the hurt out for so long, but which had bottled up so much more of life as well.

Along with the happiness had come a myriad of other emotions, many of them unfamiliar because Spock had suppressed them for so long. He was not even sure that he was labeling them correctly. When the wild tumult of their melds calmed to a more manageable level, he would have to check with Jim that he was correct. Most especially about contentment. Contentment seemed to be a by-product of happiness. Spock had devoted an entire day to its analysis and now felt he was familiar enough with it that he could experience it without the almost automatic tightening of his Vulcan controls. In an exercise he had recently devised, he imagined a clear, cool liquid seeping through the cracks of the old Iowa wall, flowing down into a sparkling stream. In his mind he scooped the water up and drank it eagerly. A most satisfying feeling possessed him. Yes, contentment.

He closed his eyes and gave himself up to memories. The way that Jim touched him, the way that he touched Jim. So different from any other act of sexual congress Spock had ever engaged in. They exchanged as much on the physical level as they did within the meld. Understanding, and acceptance. What Jim had consistently called love.

Sometimes it frightened Spock to think of all that Jim had become to him. For so long he had stood alone. It had been the only way that he had found that he could function and maintain his sanity. His isolation had started the first time his father had gently drawn his mother away from his crying distress, and had strengthened with each taunt of the Vulcan children he knew. By the time he had reached Starfleet Academy, even his rebellion against his father had not changed what was now his very nature.

Now he was not alone. Had not been, ever since that first day Jim had assumed the captaincy of the _Enterprise_ , and asked Spock if he played chess. Now there was Jim, loving him, touching him, meeting him in the meld with such joyous response…. Spock closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. He had revealed so much to Jim in the meld. All that he was. His insecurities, his longing for acceptance, all the hurt that he still harbored. The intense need that Spock had for the human who completed him. Jim had seen it and not been repelled. Jim had showered him with acceptance and only tried to help Spock accept himself.

Spock’s sensitive hearing picked up the sound of a sentry walking nearby, and he opened his eyes to quickly survey the camp. All was quiet. He allowed his eyes to linger on the sleeping form before him. It was difficult to reconcile, he mused, the images of passion and light that were in his mind, and the smudged shadow just ten feet away that was Jim. How could so much energy and compassion, such wonder and feeling be encased in a merely physical form? A whimsical question, which Spock would not have ordinarily allowed himself, but he did now. He could feel himself changing day by day, expanding in a satisfying way that he did not want to stop. He wanted to achieve a balance within himself that would integrate his Vulcan controls with the expression of his feelings for his lover. He wanted to learn to love Jim, to say “I love you” and experience within his soul exactly what it meant.

But Spock was still not completely sure that the method they were using within the meld would reach that elusive goal. It had yielded some eminently satisfactory results so far, but Spock could not escape the fact that it was Jim’s image, and Jim’s presence nearby that was fueling the self-revelations. Spock felt sure that final integration could not occur within that context. He would have to take control of the process, and change himself. Initiate change from his own will with some action or determination that was uniquely his. Or perhaps the change would be a gradual one, and he would awaken one day able to speak those precious words to Jim, being conscious of how the transformation had been accomplished. Whatever the method, Spock was fiercely determined to make it happen.

He continued to stare at the object of his thoughts. Kirk had twisted until the blanket had half wrapped itself about him. A puff of wind laden with dust blew through their encampment. For a moment Spock could not see anything at all. He rubbed the dust out of his eyes. When he looked over at Kirk again, he froze.

The snout of a too familiar animal was poking out of the sandy soil just a foot to one side of the sleeping form. Spock could not see anything more of the animal’s body, but there was the hint of mounded soil extending for several feet perpendicular to Kirk’s body. Then it trailed off gradually, marking the unmistakable path the animal had taken underground to reach this far into the camp. In an instant Spock’s racing mind recalled the animal’s sharp teeth tinted with red, and Veronkon’s jagged, ugly wound. Jim was in great danger, and Spock reached as silently as he could for the phaser to one side of his pack. It was possible that Jim’s very life was dependent on his ability to gain his weapon without alerting the animal. If only there were a way to warn Jim himself….

Kirk awakened to the sound of Spock’s voice insisting, _Jim, roll over to your left, now!_ Kirk moved instinctively, still wrapped within his blanket, the sound of Spock’s silent words within his mind as effective as an insistent shove in the back. Kirk rolled over and over again, recoiling just a bit as he heard the whirling sound of a phaser being fired at close range, and coming to a rest only when he came up against the prickly stem of a desert bush. He jumped to his feet along with the rest of the camp who had been alerted by the sound, and looked back at where he had been soundly sleeping.

Spock was standing over a burn mark in the sand with a phaser in hand. He looked up at Kirk, then hastened to his captain.

“Jim, are you all right?” He grasped Kirk’s upper arm once, then forced himself to release his hold.

But Kirk was placing one hand on Spock’s shoulder, as if to reassure himself of its solidity. “What was that all about?” he asked. Then, more strongly, “What the hell happened?”

By that time Salazar could be seen examining the burn mark, and other Marines had discovered the long burrow trail still faintly visible in the sand. Kirk urged Spock over to the scene, his hand still firmly settled on his shoulder.

Spock delayed his explanation until they were within earshot of Commander Salazar, and addressed his remarks to him. “I observed a Glyptodont emerging from the sand just a few feet from Captain Kirk. I advised him to move to safety and was able to use my phaser to eliminate the threat.”

Salazar was frowning. He rose and brushed sand from his knees. “Glyptodont? What’s that?”

Kirk was regarding Spock with revulsion in his eyes. “You mean that armadillo thing that killed Lieutenant Veronkon?”

Spock nodded. “Indeed. It was quite close to you and I feared it was about to attack. It was fortunate I noticed it at all, as only the very tip of its snout had emerged from the sand.” He did not mention that he would never have noticed it if his whole attention had not been focused so completely on Kirk.

Spock continued to speak formally, as if he were making a report. “It is unfortunate that I was forced to use my phaser. I would have preferred to eliminate the animal through other means, and not risk alerting the enemy to our presence. However, there seemed to be no alternative in the face of imminent attack.” Spock was speaking too quickly, and had barely looked Kirk in the eye, addressing most of his comments to Salazar. It was clear to Kirk that he was truly shaken.

Salazar spoke thoughtfully. “I suppose there’s no place we can go that would be safe from those things?” He looked up at Spock.

“Without more information about the creatures it is difficult to say. However, I would surmise that the rocky formations of the higher elevations would prove to be an effective deterrent to the burrowing capabilities of the animals.”

Just a bit confused, Salazar looked over at Kirk. Kirk laughed shakily, and tightened his hold on Spock’s shoulder. That brought him to an awareness that he still was touching his friend and his hand dropped a bit self-consciously. “He always talks like that. You get used to it.

Salazar grinned. “Well, I could get used to vigilance that notices a snout sticking out of the ground. I guess there’s no way we could have expected the sentries to have picked up an animal underground. We won’t be in the mountains for hours.” Salazar addressed the men and women who had gathered around them. “There’s nothing more we can do here, everyone. Let’s all rest in two’s or three’s, even more, and make sure at least one person in the group is alert to possible attack from the ground. Clancy,” he addressed a tall woman, “let’s set up some of our tricorders to see if we can detect the animals from afar.”

Spock offered, “Perhaps I can be of some assistance…”

Salazar waved the offer away. “No, Commander, you’ve done more than enough already. Let my people show you what we can do.” He strode off with the woman, taking the crowd with him.

For a moment, the two _Enterprise_ officers stood staring at each other, then Spock broke eye contact and looked down pointedly at where Kirk’s blanket had been.

The corners of the human’s mouth quirked upwards at the so-predictable protective gesture. “I don’t much feel like resting, or sleeping, right now, do you?” He looked around at the men and women all about them. “Let’s take a walk, maybe, talk a little?”

That suited Spock exactly. “Agreed,” he nodded, and they walked towards where the sentries stared out into the stark landscape.

“How about over there?” Kirk pointed towards a particularly rocky stretch of land that had been plainly unsuitable for sleeping, but was ideal for private conversation, right on the very edge of the encampment. The closest sentry was a good thirty feet away, Lieutenant Perkins, still undoubtedly wrapped in his own private hell.

Once Kirk had settled down with a sigh against the largest rock available, and Spock had folded his long limbs a comforting few inches away, they found that their silent companionship was enough. They sat in silence for several minutes, occasionally looking at one another, otherwise observing the desert scene. Spock found his tension over the close encounter with the Glyptodont melting away.

Finally, Kirk stirred and turned his head to look at Spock. “I was surprised to hear from you.”

“Surprised?” Spock asked with a teasing lifted eyebrow.

Kirk gently nudged him with an elbow. “You know exactly what I mean, fake. You sent me a telepathic message. I heard you in my mind. Sure came in handy.”

Spock assumed a lecturing tone. “You are aware that much of my telepathic ability is erratic without the initiation of touch. It cannot be depended upon. We were most fortunate that we are sufficiently attuned that you received my message.”

“Yes,” Kirk said, still looking at Spock, his gaze softening. “I’m grateful that we are sufficiently attuned.” He waited for a response from Spock, then prodded softly, “We are, aren’t we?”

Spock slowly met Kirk’s eyes. They were gazing at him expectantly. On an impulse, Spock extended two fingers in the only Vulcan gesture of intimacy the galaxy had ever seen. Kirk looked startled, but did not hesitate to match the gesture with his own two fingers. “T’hy’la,” Spock breathed, putting all his love into the word, “we have always been attuned. I do not believe that anything can ever change that.”

They sat staring deeply into each other’s eyes. and a surge of physical attraction possessed them both. Their fingers curled around each other and clung. If they had truly had privacy, they would have kissed in raw hunger for the touch of the other. They contented themselves with the look, the touch, and a whispered, “I love you,” from Kirk.

For a moment Spock closed his eyes and basked in the words, then drew back and broke the contact of their fingers. He could not allow the emotional and sexual intensity to continue, for both their sakes. He felt sure Jim would appreciate his next words. After all, it was his captain who had taught him how to tease.

“Such an emotional declaration seems to be somewhat inappropriate, Captain, considering our surroundings.” He nodded towards the camp.

“Look who’s talking,” Kirk declared indignantly, which he found difficult to do while keeping his voice down. “You’re the one who just called me t’hy’la! Besides, it seems appropriate considering you’ve just saved my life. Again. I reserve the right to speak emotionally whenever that happens.” He gave an emphatic nod before stretching out on his back. He folded his arms behind his head. Spock turned and gazed down at him tenderly, and Kirk matched the look. He found himself wishing fervently that they could make love right then and there. Gratitude and unbounded love claimed him along with physical desire. He surveyed Spock with shining eyes. His wonderful friend.

“You do that a lot, you know,” he said thickly, reveling in the softened expression looking down at him, and fighting the urge to touch again. “Save my life. I feel like you’ve given me life. New life every day that we’re together. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Spock was leaning over towards him just a bit, braced on one outstretched arm. To Kirk’s surprise, he raised the other hand to fleetingly touch Kirk’s face, swallowed audibly, then resolutely turned to scan their surroundings. Kirk realized he was dutifully scanning for signs of another giant armadillo. The dust in the air all around made it difficult to see.

When Spock was satisfied of their safety he turned to Kirk and said, obviously striving for a neutral topic between them, “I am encouraged by the burrowing habits of the Glyptodont. Perhaps its unusual method of locomotion suggested an underground location for the drug facility.” Spock shared Kirk’s belief in what they would find here.

“Hope so,” Kirk said, willing to go along with the effort to defuse the emotions between them. “I’d hate to be here on a wild goose chase.”

Kirk couldn’t fight the impulse to yawn. He began to feel his fatigue catch up with him again now that the adrenalin had dissipated. Since he didn’t want to give up his companionship with Spock just yet, he sat up again.

They sat in silence for a while, shoulder to shoulder, and watched a small satellite climb until it was lost in the blazing sky. The wind continued to howl and was now swirling the dust around the screen of bushes and rocks.

Spock looked at his captain with concern in his eyes. “I believe that we are about to experience a dust storm.”

Kirk was squinting into the distance. “What’s the danger?” He knew Spock was the expert in such matters.

“If we all remain together, and stationary, none, unless the storm is very severe. However….” Spock stood and scanned the horizon, virtually indistinguishable now from the rest of the dust-filled air. His uneasiness communicated itself to Kirk.

“What? What is it?” Kirk too was now on his feet, alert to…what?

“Our tricorders are rendered virtually useless by these climatic conditions, Captain.” Spock had slipped into his shipboard reporting mode. Kirk knew he was serious. “We would have no warning of the approach of any enemy or of another dangerous animal. We must rely on our natural senses only.”

Kirk turned towards the line of sentries. “Let’s alert every….

His good intention was short-lived. Out of the comer of his eyes Kirk saw a sudden motion, and turned to meet it in an instinctive movement.

Thus the rock that had been aimed toward the side of his head impacted squarely with his cheek instead. Sudden pain shot through his face and jaw. Kirk ignored it as his assailant launched himself against the human’s back, bearing his pain-weakened body to the ground, forcing the air from his lungs.

Kirk twisted as he fell, landing on his shoulder, his arms rising to grapple with his attacker holding down his upper body. As he turned, Kirk’s mind assimilated the dark hair, the slightly bulging forehead of an Orion only in passing; his eyes concentrated on the raised arm holding a sizable rock, starting its murderous descent. His own right arm shot out to stop it. The Orion tensed and fought to bring the rock down on Kirk’s head; Kirk held the arm back with all his might. Their limbs stiffened and trembled, brute strength against brute strength. They were evenly matched. Despite the pain in his head and the blood he could feel dripping freely down his cheek to the ground, Kirk felt the alien hesitate, his body sagging slightly.

Kirk immediately followed up on even this smallest of advantages. His left arm, which had been splayed against the ground to give him purchase for his right, came up in a bruising roundhouse blow to the Orion’s head. He could clearly hear the resounding smack as his fist connected mainly with the bony skull. Kirk pulled back and connected again, still holding back the alien’s arm with the rock poised in the air above them, trying desperately to connect with the more delicate facial bones so he could cause some damage.

The Orion jerked to the side with the second blow. Kirk could feel his body shift slightly as the alien’s other arm started searching the ground next to them. A third blow landed squarely on the back of the Orion’s head. Kirk knew his fist could not do much damage, but the impact pushed the Orion further across Kirk’s body. He could feel the alien reaching for something in the dirt, and knew he didn’t have much time. The human went to follow up on his temporary advantage by grabbing the back of the creature’s neck with his left hand, intending to pound the head into the rocky ground, but as he tensed to do so he saw another rock descending. Kirk tried to turn away, to shield himself, but he already knew as he acted that it was too late, for the rock could easily finish off what the Orion had started with that first painful blow. Pain rocketed through his body. He fell back nervelessly to the ground.


	15. Chapter 15

The first thing he became aware of was an incredible soreness in his throat. It hurt each time he tried to swallow, like it was lined with swords or something. But that didn’t make sense. He would never swallow a sword, not after what Mom had told him. All that stuff in the Riverside Carnival was just a trick. Besides, she’d promised to whack him good if he ever tried it again. Take away his models. Even to tell Dad, when he got back. Nope, he’d sworn off swords for good. But why was his throat so sore then?

He swallowed hard and hazily wondered if he was sick again. The last time, he’d missed more than a week of school. Then Len got mad at him when he aced the test anyway. Sheesch, what a slime ball. Even if he was his best friend. Some best friend. Better go find another one. All his friends in Riverside passed before his inspection, and something inside the little boy sighed. Nobody there. Nobody to be his best friend. Nobody to play…ball with, right? Sheesch. What a town.

He swallowed again fretfully, wishing he had some lemonade. That was it, lemonade. He’d ask Mom for some. She always made it up fresh, not like that stuff Len’s mom got from the synthesizer. He’d call for his mom. Where had she gone? Mom?

 

*****

 

Perkins felt the body over his shoulder stir, and a weak voice cry, “Ma….” Spock was by his side in an instant, trying to inspect the captain while maintaining their pace and not disturbing the fairly precarious position Kirk was in. One finger’s touch against Jim’s face was enough. Nothing but the broken images and chaos of a drifting, unconscious mind. A mirror of the swirling emotions that had been threatening Spock’s control ever since his first glimpse of the slack form. Anger, worry, sick despair, even self-pity. Spock could name them all, but he would allow none of them to reign, ruthlessly suppressing their clamoring under his most stoic facade. Logic must reign and not the dread that threatened to explode inside of him.

Spock released Kirk’s head and replaced it as gently as he could against the marine’s back. He shook his head at the man’s questioning look and resumed his position in their hot, sweaty trek.

 

*****

 

Hands seemed to be on his body then, rough hands that made the pain in his head grow and grow until it filled his body, defining it for the first time so that lie suddenly knew he had arms, legs and a head that had no strength. The hands settled him, ummphh, he felt the consolation of a familiar warmth, and though his middle was bent awkwardly over an angular purchase, and his arms and legs dangled helplessly, he knew comfort that stole past even the pain thrumming relentlessly in his head. That hypnotic movement started again. He let his mind wander in the vast red haze that seemed to be the only thing he could see. Hands. Hands upon his body. His mother’s comforting hands when he had fallen from the tree and broken his arm. He’d held back the tears until she came to him, then cried like a baby, to his shame. He flushed before the memory, then his mind seemed to pitch and roll away from it until it centered on another thought. Edith. Such brightness in this peculiar wasteland. Her hands so delicate, so fine. He’d wanted to feel her hands on his body, wanted to show her his own gentleness and feel her soft touch in return. But all he had was the memory of her little hand clasped in his. So sweet, those little hands had been. So sweet.

The sweetness faded and he was skipping over the years like a stone thrown against the water, finally settling in on something deep, something deep down and wonderful. Bones. The thought of his old friend tickled at the corners of his mind, beckoning onward to a bright lit corridor, but all he really wanted to do was think about the comfort of those hands, not travel somewhere too bright to even see. Bones had often comforted him with his hands, easing his pain, giving him hope, providing him with such pleasure…. He thought about the pleasure for a while, remembering in a confused way so many nights, the rustling of sheets, the feel of skin against skin, a muffled cry of ecstasy. It was good, so good. And always hands upon him, touching, caressing, sliding over and down…Bones. Such pleasure.

Even in the surrealistic world through which he wandered he somehow felt that last thought was wrong. The hands that had given him pleasure weren’t Bones’, they were…Len, no, Bones was his best friend, but best friends didn’t do that with one another, did they? He pondered the thought for awhile, feeling that it was somehow a familiar one, but confused because it was one of those thoughts that wouldn’t gain clarity in his mind, it all was shaky and dribbling out on the sides and ends in all sorts of shades of green. But best friends loved, didn’t they? That sudden realization flitted through his confusion, and he grabbed at it in joy. They loved! Even if the name of the one he loved refused to come to his befogged mind, now he could clearly see the long, strong-looking fingers, the wide palm, the so-soft skin he had caressed and loved…those wonderful hands that stroked and cared, provided comfort and security…. Names weren’t important, love was, and he settled down into a mindless contemplation of its happiness until the darkness came again.

 

*****

 

Perkins waited until eyes were turned elsewhere before moving back towards Spock as unobtrusively as he could. “What were the Orions saying?” he whispered, keeping his head and apparent attention focused strictly forward.

The Vulcan had kept an expressionless mask throughout their forced march, only allowing the smallest hint of concern to cross his face when they had carefully transferred the captain from Perkins’ shoulder to Spock’s. The four of them were taking turns carrying the captain’s limp body, although Spock had without comment taken the longest shift, and had barely allowed the slighter female marine five minutes before directing a change to the tall Rigellian Ensign Purn. Now Spock glanced to make sure no attention was focused on them before he tonelessly replied, “They are discussing whether or not to keep Captain Kirk if he does not regain consciousness soon. They fear he impedes our progress.”

Perkins restrained his grimace. From what he knew of blows to the head, and concussions, Kirk could come to in the next minute, or not until tomorrow. Assuming, that is, that a concussion was all he had suffered, and not a skull fracture that had caused a lot more damage to the brain. With all the caked blood and dirt, it was hard to tell anything about the captain’s condition. They’d been given no opportunity at all to examine him. If he’d suffered a fracture, then the captain could easily die, just like….

A fresh wave of pain caught at Perkins as he experienced anew his own grief. With Sergei gone…. For a moment his stomach lurched, his limbs grew numb, and he stared into a bottomless black chasm that was of his own making. He stumbled over a rock, caught his balance and walked on, without being aware of his actions at all, so caught up was he in his own so-intense emotions. It would be so easy just to give up, knowing there could be no more happiness. Just to resist the Orions and let them draw their weapons, knowing he would be sent to the same world that had taken Sergei…. 

But both of them had been Marines, he was a Marine, dedicated to the service. They’d both lived with the knowledge that every mission could be their last, that they were the Federation’s version of mercenary soldiers in the most dangerous profession of them all. They’d sometimes laughed about the danger, calling each other hero, they’d once allowed themselves to cry, for the future that would inevitably be theirs. Sergei had never quit, had always accepted the danger, of their love as well as their jobs, he had never given up, not even on Maritius VII, when everyone else had lost hope. Perkins swallowed hard, and forced down his gut-wrenching sorrow with a strangled sob. Time to grieve later, when they’d gotten out of this God-awful situation, when the mission was accomplished. But if Kirk didn’t come out of it soon…. Perkins looked up at the unyielding Vulcan striding next to him, with his precious burden slung over his shoulder steadied by a large gentle hand placed carefully on the small of Kirk’s back. Then he looked at the group of Orions walking before them, and felt without turning the presence of the Orions behind them as well. Surely Spock wouldn’t be so foolish to…. If Kirk didn’t come out of it soon…. He shook his head. He didn’t know what would happen.

 

*****

 

This time it was the voices that roused him. There was shouting, and his body was being jostled from side to side until it impacted with a hard surface. It started the pounding in his head again with a vengeance.

For a while it was impossible to focus on anything but the pain that blocked other sensations. Not that he really tried to be aware of anything else. He seemed robbed of all his will to do anything else but just lay here and lose himself within the red haze. The thought disgusted him. He had so little energy even for self-dismay. After a while the haze diminished, along with the pain, and he could hear the voices again. No way he could shut them out now, they were right by his ear.

The words didn’t make sense. Just a jumble of sounds. Wait, wait, that sounded familiar. The rhythm, the cadence tantalized him into thinking that maybe he could tell what was being said, if he only tried…. But he didn’t want to try.

“You will lose a valuable hostage if you kill him now. It would not be logical.” Ah, there was a voice he knew. It was…it was…the voice wasn’t as calm, or as steady as he remembered it, but surely it was familiar? And that touch upon his side, surely he’d felt that before?

The familiar voice was followed by another babble of sounds he couldn’t comprehend, then there was another voice mouthing the same ridiculous sounds, and Kirk—yes, that was who he was—began to weary of all the shouting. Why wouldn’t they stop? Couldn’t a person get some sleep around here?

There was the soothing, trustworthy voice again. “If you allow me a few minutes, I will be able to awaken him.” The voice sounded resolute, but Kirk knew from the slightest of tremors that the man was unsure of what he said. The thought troubled him, as if such uncertainty were unusual and the sure sign of danger. What danger could reach him in this calm world he lived in now? He wouldn’t let the thought bother him and tried to slip back into the comfortable darkness again.

Something wouldn’t let him. An insistent voice was whispering in his ear, “Jim, Jim, wake up, you must come to consciousness, you must walk.” This was interesting. Why must he walk? He felt his question absorbed by the green glowing presence that had found a place within the red. It seemed…familiar.

“Because if you do not, you will die.” It took a while for the words to make their way across the space between them. Even when they reached him Kirk couldn’t find any way to respond. He would die. Would that be different from where he was now? What was death?

A wave of green sorrow washed over him. This was interesting. The green one was sad. Kirk knew he didn’t want to cause anyone sorrow, but least of all this one with the comforting hands. Yes, here was the one with the love! Here was….

“You must awaken, and walk. Come, follow me. I will bring you back.” The green glow reached out to envelope him. He felt himself pulled forward, away from the red, up towards the light, following the green, following the love, following….

“Spock!” he whispered, and tried to open his eyes. They seemed to be stuck together. There was an abrupt movement as he could feel hands being torn away from his face, and a loud smack that sounded like flesh hitting flesh.

Kirk struggled again to open his eyes, and a little of the brightness managed to leak in through the slits. Then someone else’s hands were upon him, and another voice was speaking.

“Well, if it isn’t Starfleet’s favorite captain, James Kirk, awake at last.” The voice drawled in a lazy way, while Kirk squinted up into the sun to try to identify the speaker. It sounded familiar….

The drawl continued. “I am so glad that I didn’t have to try to convince Haranash not to leave your body rotting in the desert. He can be so difficult to deal with sometimes.”

The speaker moved away from the glare. Kirk’s firming vision was able to absorb the short-cut blonde hair, the long nose and pinched features, the washed-out blue eyes. “Johnson!” he gasped, struggling to sit up.

This time the hands did not hinder. He sat and felt as if his head were splitting open. He wanted to clutch it and moan; he forced himself to sit up straighter and try to focus instead.

Johnson was still before him, kneeling on one knee, observing him in a friendly sort of way. The human chuckled as he saw Kirk sway and reached out one hand to support his shoulder. “Oh, you couldn’t really be surprised, could you, Captain? What else were you looking for on our lovely planet, if not for me?” The voice was relentlessly cordial. “May I introduce my colleague to you?”

Kirk looked past Johnson., seeing only a blurred array of bodies clustered about them, and shook his head in an attempt to clear it. He felt the fingers on his shoulder tighten. “Come now, Captain, it wouldn’t be polite to be seated when you meet the esteemed Commander Haranash.”

Johnson rose. Kirk saw, as if in slow-motion, one booted foot draw back, and then slowly, gently impact with his side. Not a blow, more an encouragement. What the hell was going on here? He struggled to rise to his feet.

Johnson’s hands were on his arms, his sides, solicitously bracing his weakened body. “Much better,” the voice said. Kirk carefully looked into the bland, pale face. Wade Johnson looked more like a weasel now than he had ever before. “I am so pleased that you are behaving with some sense. Humans should be treated with dignity, don’t you agree? Even misguided, stupid, traitorous humans like yourself.” The man smiled toothily, happily, his expression completely opposed to the words he’d just uttered. Kirk felt a shiver of raw apprehension run through him.

Johnson’s hands were on him again, turning him to face another being. Kirk angrily shrugged them away. He was feeling less disoriented with every passing second, his need to assess his danger taking over from the lethargy of his unconscious state.

Johnson did not seem to notice the angry action, but turned towards an Orion officer and swept him a bow. “This is Captain James Kirk, Commander Haranash. Captain, this is the Orion who wanted to kill you. Probably still does, for that matter. We’ll have to do what we can, you know, to change his mind.”

The Orion regarded Kirk levelly. He was taller than most of his race, but still lean and strong-looking, with an air of suppressed ferocity about him. Looking into those glowing green eyes, Kirk could well believe what Johnson had said. Commander Haranash would just as soon not be meeting James Kirk.

“Do you know wherrrre you arrrre?” The Orion spoke Federation Standard with the sibilance typical of most non-native speakers, but he was perfectly understandable. Kirk glanced at a silent Johnson, who still sported a slight grin. The Orion would have to speak Standard, if they were truly in an alliance with the Johnson Family. It seemed very unlikely that Johnson would have condescended to learn Orionese.

“I know who I am, where I am, and I can walk. You are in violation of Federation space. Is that what you want to know?” Kirk planted his feet wide and fisted his hands on his hips. The Orion’s eyes widened at the unmistakable sign of aggression.

Kirk was unable to protect himself from the back-handed blow that landed squarely on his face, so he rolled to the side with its force in an attempt to minimize its effect. Damn that Orion! Damn himself for being so light-headed and dizzy that he hadn’t even been able to ward off the blow. He lay on his side for a moment, feeling the pain radiating from his cheek down into his neck and up under his scalp. He’d felt worse, he reassured himself. Much worse. The blood dripped into his car and then spilled down onto the sand.

A boot toe nudged him in the side. “Oh, Captain Kirk,” Johnson sighed melodramatically. “That’s not the way to get in the commander’s good graces. I really don’t like to see you treated like one of the others, but if you insist on being rude, there’s absolutely nothing I can do.” Hands were helping him to his feet once more.

Johnson’s words had kindled a fire of hope, and of dread, in Kirk’s heart. Maybe he hadn’t just been hallucinating. Maybe some of what he’d dreamed had been real….

“Others?” he gasped, holding his aching jaw. “What others?”

Haranash was before him again, looking as grim as Johnson had looked cheerful before. The alien reached out to grasp Kirk’s chin in a strong grip, the movement sending waves of agony through Kirk’s head. He resisted the temptation to gasp and to succumb to the hot pincers shooting behind his eyes. But the helplessness was worse than the pain. Kirk gritted his teeth against both. The bony fingers tightened and shook his head back and forth, making the pain reach a roaring crescendo. The Orion’s face was stretched tight in an exaggerated grimace of a smile. Kirk had the sure knowledge that the commander knew exactly what he was inflicting, and took delight in it. But if a helpless, moaning victim would add to the Orion’s glee, then Kirk resolved to do nothing to cooperate. He fought against the pain, the helplessness, and forced himself to keep his eyes locked with the Orion. The need to show strength before an enemy was instinctive.

“Yessss, I am in Federationnn sssspace, Kirrrk. What will you do about ittt? Nothing!! Because I willll allllow you to do nothing!” The hold on Kirk’s chin tightened even more, Kirk could feel the alien’s pointed fingernails digging into the skin and drawing more blood. “You will walk!” the alien said, “and you willll give inforrrmation, when I asssssk! I am the leader here, not you, and,” the eyes narrowed and turned to encompass Wade Johnson, “not himmmm! Now, go with others!” Kirk was twisted and shoved in the opposite direction.

He came up, stumbling, against a strong chest and supporting arms that he’d know anywhere. “Spock!” he whispered, a curious combination of happiness and dismay coursing through him. He pulled back to look at his friend, and observed the battered face with wordless consternation.

Spock’s face was a swollen, greenish mess, his eyes blackened with bruises, lips puffy and split. A thin line of fresh blood trickled down from a cut just before one ear. Kirk remembered how Spock had been roughly pulled out of the meld. The same elegantly pointed ear was caked with green blood.

“My God, Spock,” Kirk breathed, reaching up to gently touch the side of Spock’s face, and trying not to hurt him, “what have they done to you?”

The first officer placed one hand over the comforting fingers, then gently pulled them away. “Do not concern yourself, Captain, my injuries will heal. Mister Johnson did not give full reign to the Orions, or to his own temper.” He turned to indicate the three others grouped about them, “We are all functional at this time.” Kirk observed Lieutenant Perkins and Marine Private O’Shea flanking Ensign Purn, the tall Rigellian security man from the _Enterprise_. They all looked tired and disheveled. It was obvious that Purn had been beaten about the face and upper torso, and he held one arm unnaturally against his side. His tunic was torn, revealing some nasty bruises on his muscled upper arms.

Kirk’s lips tightened. He wouldn’t make the same mistake again. Purn and Spock had obviously been singled out because they were non-humans. They would be in danger so long as Wade Johnson was a part of this Orion patrol.

“For God’s sake, let’s sit,” he urged, wondering if Purn were going to collapse without support. “I presume we’re going to need all the energy we can get.”

Kirk kept his gaze on Spock as the Vulcan carefully lowered himself to the sand, then, to contain his growing anger, tore his gaze away from Spock’s battered body and observed their immediate surroundings. About twenty Orions, most of them seated on the sandy soil, all of them armed. No other humans at all, except Johnson. Scrub brush, the ubiquitous small boulders and pebbles everywhere, the line of mountains about half a kilometer away marching into the distance to his left. His gaze returned to the others. Only Spock recognized the hard glint there.

“I suppose this answers our questions about Johnson Combine complicity with the Orions,” he said grimly, flicking a glance at where Johnson appeared to be in earnest conversation with an Orion officer. “Brief me on what’s happened.”

Spock wanted to ask about Jim’s physical condition, he wanted to reach out and wipe the blood from his lover’s cheek. Instead he succumbed to the ready instinct to respond to his captain’s need for information.

It did not take long to relay the story of their capture under cover of the storm, of how Johnson had recognized Kirk’s limp body and insisted he be brought along as a hostage. “We have been making a forced march for three point two five hours. This is the first rest we have taken.” Spock deliberately did not mention the meld, or the method by which Kirk had been transported.

Kirk asked the most important question. “Where are they taking us?”

“Unknown at this time, Captain, although it would be logical to assume that we will be taken to their headquarters.”

Kirk twisted to look over his shoulder. “Any signs of pursuit?”

“Negative. At the time of the attack, and for approximately thirty minutes thereafter, the sand storm was at its height. This is undoubtedly the reason why more of our own forces did not come to our aid; they simply were not aware of the Orion presence.”

Kirk was nodding. “And the sand storm will have wiped out any signs of where we went, in what direction to go. We’re nearly impossible to follow.”

“Not completely, Captain. You might recall that the two Andorians from the _Enterprise_ Security team are on this expedition.”

Kirk looked at him in sudden understanding. “And Andorians can read…auras, right?”

“Correct. Although it is a skill not easily used, I believe the Andorians will be able to track us through the desert, even through the waste left by the sand storm, until our people are able to use their scanners. It should be possible for Commander Salazar to follow us, in time.” They looked at each other in silence, sharing the thought of what was behind the words. Nothing should be assumed or depended upon, other than themselves.

Perkins observed the glance between the two men, misinterpreted it, and spoke up for the first time. “Sir, I’m sure Commander Salazar is following us. I’ve served with him a long time, and I know he’ll be doing everything he can.”

“Yes, Lieutenant, I’m sure he is.” Kirk spoke sincerely, his opinion of Salazar was high. And the others needed to know it. “In the meantime, I suppose this is a golden opportunity to find the base we’ve been sent here to locate anyway, right? Straight to the front door, I hope.” It was not the best attempt at reassurance he had ever made in a tight situation, but it would have to do.

There was a chorus of murmured assents, all of them willing to play the game, all of them knowing the Orions were currently making all the rules.

Spock refocused the attention on Kirk. “Sir, I do not believe the Orions will be resting for much longer. Haranash is most impatient to reach wherever we are going, or perhaps is concerned about pursuit.” He looked at Kirk pointedly, trying hard to keep a personal anxiety out of his voice, not knowing he had been unsuccessful in that attempt for more than two years. “Will you be able to walk?”

Kirk’s hand came up involuntarily to rest on his cheek. “If I can keep from laughing, I don’t think I’ll have any problem.” He was unwilling to say any more.

Spock understood him well, and his lips tightened in reaction. Perkins, unfamiliar with the Vulcan, thought Spock’s expression denoted typical Vulcan disdain for human humor in inappropriate circumstances, and wondered at how Spock could be so callous. He was surprised when Kirk leaned towards Spock and said softly, “Don’t worry, I’ll be all right.”

Then Kirk was turning to the rest of them, as if embarrassed or covering up a mistake. “How are you all? Any injuries?”

Private O’Shea had an obvious, nasty looking cut down the length of her arm, already beginning to redden with infection, but she made no mention of it. The others had sustained various cuts and bruises from their initial fight at the camp. Kirk learned that the rest of them had been temporarily stunned and dragged from the camp under cover of the storm, and made to march as soon as they were conscious again.

Kirk became aware of his thirst, and asked, “Any water?”

Before any of the four could answer, they were approached by the Orions, disruptors to the fore, urged to their feet, and pushed into a dogtrot.

During the long hours that followed, Kirk desperately wished for sundown. The sun pounded fiercely, blinded them with its light, and drained them with its power. Kirk reached up one more time to mop the sweat from his brow and wondered how much longer until one of the humans succumbed to sunstroke. The Orions themselves were fresh, that much was obvious. They kept up a steady pace, forcing them all into a fast walk or a slow dogtrot that ate up the kilometers but was killing to the humans who had already traveled far that day.

Kirk wiped his forehead again, running his hand down to massage his aching neck, without breaking step with Spock, who had been striding by his side all this time. Kirk’s mind was racing furiously, testing and rejecting possibilities for their escape, gauging the danger they were in from the Orions, trying to find some factor they could turn to their advantage.

Wondering how he could protect his people. Spock and Purn, while not hindered in their ability to walk, had suffered already, and for what? Because they didn’t conform to some standard that bastard Johnson kept in his head! Kirk’s heart swelled with indignation, and he wished fervently that he would be able to protect Spock, protect them all from further indignities. But he knew with cold certainty that he was as much in the power of their captors as the rest of them.

As they all dropped down into a stiff walk upon the signal from the front, he stole a glance at his friend. The left side of Spock’s face was beginning to mottle a distinctive green. Great, Kirk thought. His left, my right, a matched pair.

With the slower pace, they could finally use their breath for more than just gasping in air. Kirk turned his face down towards the ground and barely whispered, “Any ideas what they want us for?” He was confident Spock would be able to hear him.

Spock was just as careful in his low-voiced reply. “Hostages? Perhaps, although it would be somewhat atypical. Information? Much more likely. After the information is obtained, our chances of survival….” He left the rest unvoiced.

Kirk took a deep breath and stared out at the barren landscape. No cover, save for the few scrub bushes and occasional boulders. They had been skirting the foothills of the mountains to their left the entire length of their walk. Even if there had been cover, how could the five of them overcome twenty captors? He had carefully counted them several times in an effort to ignore the aching in his head while he had been casting about for ways to escape. They had no weapons, while the Orions were plentifully supplied.

“This doesn’t look like it will be one of our easier escapes, Mister Spock,” he noted with a twisted smile.

“Indeed, Captain, I have been contemplating such a possibility, and immediate prospects are not encouraging. However, there may be occasions….”

“Right. Let’s keep alert to your possibilities. They’ve worked for us before.”

“Indeed. I find myself more encouraged now that you are mobile.”

Kirk looked at Spock without turning his head. “Didn’t like lugging your captain’s body around, did you?” He could imagine just how worried Spock must have been, himself limp and lifeless, with all that blood in his hair and face. “I’m fine now.”

Spock turned to fully face him but did not break his pace. “If you can call your current condition fine,” he said acerbically, “then perhaps you have been more affected than I had thought.”

Kirk couldn’t help himself, he had to laugh, just a little, and that action made him realize Spock would think the laughter inappropriate too, which would just add to his annoyance…then suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore. The danger of their position caved in on him all at once. They could easily die out here in this desolate desert, and the Orions might continue to murder and enslave without check. Private O’Shea trudging even now with her head up, still carefully observing the landscape for landmarks, Ensign Purn who had seemed so relieved to see his captain, even Lieutenant Perkins, who should have known better with all his experience, all of them were depending on him to get them out of this mess. Combined with the sun, and the weariness hanging heavy on his shoulders, aching in his legs, the thought was immensely sobering. They would have to find a way.

“We shouldn’t move until we know where the base camp is,” he said softly, carefully watching one footstep after the other. Little puffs of dust accompanied each footfall. How many more would the Orions allow them to take? “Wherever that is,” he softly added.

“A distance,” Spock reassured. “I have heard them speak of tomorrow….”

Kirk turned his head this time, ignoring the way the motion made his vision blur. “You heard? Can you understand them?”

“Somewhat,” Spock admitted. “I have overheard a conversation between two of the Orions arguing over Haranash’s decision to take only the five of us prisoner. Apparently, they wished to engage our entire force in battle.”

“Twenty against sixty? Even for Orions, that isn’t good odds.”

“Agreed. It was indeed much more logical to use the cover of the dust storm for a covert action, which may not have even been discovered until after the storm subsided. However, these soldiers implied that an attack would have taken place before, although I was unable to ascertain before what. Perhaps there has been a change of policy with the new Central Government.”

Kirk absently scratched some of the blood that had caked on his ear. “I’ve been wondering why Haranash is taking us. He must know that Salazar will be pursuing him.”

“Yes. It may be appropriate to believe that we are bait. Or that he is under orders to secure prisoners at all costs. Johnson had made it clear earlier that Haranash is not in command of this planetary outpost.”

Kirk thought this over for a while. “We don’t have many options right now. Hope that Salazar can follow us to wherever the Orions are holed up.” He looked around. “It may be the only way we’d ever have found them. From the distance we’re traveling it would have taken us days to go down this far. We were up at the wrong end of the mountains.”

They walked for a few moments in silence, then Kirk turned to Spock again. “When have you had the time to learn Orionese?” Memory of how they had been occupying their little free time lately swam into Kirk’s consciousness, and vied with an overwhelming appreciation of his lover’s unmatched intellect. He swallowed hard, choking just a little over the dryness of his throat. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

“Negative.” The word was impersonal, duty-bound, but the glance that went with it told a different story. “And I am comforted that the concussion you undoubtedly have suffered has not affected your memory. I was beginning to wonder….”

Kirk gave the barest of dry chuckles. “Silly Vulcan!” It was a love term he had used only once before. “How could I ever forget you?” He retained the faintest memory of feeling loved while he was lost in red dreams.

“Unknown.” This time the took Spock gave Kirk under lowered lashes was teasing. Kirk gasped again with choked laughter.

“Mister, that’s not going to get us out of this mess,” he admonished.

“Agreed,” Spock said primly, and turned his face into sober, correct lines. Never before could Spock have imagined himself engaging in such a conversation under such serious circumstances. But the need to produce a positive frame of mind in his commanding officer meshed so completely with the desire to establish an emotional communication with his lover that he had no compunction about his frivolous words at all. It was logical, of course, to assume that they would work together in this crisis much better if they were experiencing positive emotions.

Kirk indicated the other prisoners walking behind them with a thumb over his shoulder. So far, the Orions had not objected to their whispered conversation, but he still kept his voice down. “How about the others? Can they hold up?”

“Since Ensign Purn is a Rigellian, I do not believe we need to question his physical stamina, even with the abuse he has taken. I am concerned about Private O’Shea, she was showing signs of heat stress earlier….” They both looked over their shoulders at the comment, and were able to witness a very red-faced human’s slow collapse to the sandy soil.

Kirk broke ranks and ran back to her immediately. O’Shea lay on her side, breathing in heaving gasps. Her clipped blonde hair was laying in matted clumps on her head, not wet with sweat, but drying in the fierce heat. Her face was fire engine red. When Kirk put his hand on one cheek, it was burning.

“Heatstroke,” Perkins said unnecessarily, knelt beside her, and began to loosen her clothing. Kirk looked around and saw Commander Haranash striding towards them from the front of the column, with Johnson right beside him. Kirk slowly rose to meet them, knowing that what he said now could easily mean life or death for the stricken woman.

Haranash did not pause to speak to them, but went straight to the collapsed form on the ground, examined it in silence for a moment, then kicked none too gently. The woman moaned, and arched away from the kick, then collapsed into stillness. Her breathing was loud even in the open air.

Kirk surged forward at the casual cruelty, but iron Vulcan fingers closed around his upper arm, then just as quickly released.

Johnson was looking with worried eyes from Kirk, to the stricken Marine, then back to Kirk again. He chewed on his lower lip, and his blue eyes looked paler in the sun. He made no move towards them, but wrapped his arms around himself, shrinking inward. This was obviously the Orion’s show.

“What isss wrong with thisss one?” Haranash queried.

Kirk swallowed his anger. “She is exhausted from the heat. She needs water, we all need water, or we will collapse as she has. She needs shade, and rest.” His words must have been understood, for Haranash turned to look again at O’Shea. The commander spoke again, flicking his left hand in the Orion form of question mark.

“She? Thisss isss a female of yourrr kind?”

Kirk closed his eyes and cursed himself. Nothing he said would be right. If he denied it, they would just examine her to be sure. He had never stopped to consider that the Orions would naturally assume their force to be all-male, as the Orions were themselves.

Slowly Kirk nodded. “Yes, Private O’Shea is a female of our kind. She will recover if you give her water….”

Haranash had already turned, and spoke to an armed Orion beside him.

Kirk did not need Spock’s sudden movement to know what that so casual order had been. He jumped forward to stand before O’Shea’s body, spreading out his arms to deny the soldier with the half-drawn disruptor access. Kirk stood with feet planted and all the willpower he could muster projected across the blazing sands at his alien adversary. “No!” he shouted.

The soldier stopped to look at Haranash for orders. The commander narrowed his eyes and considered Kirk. “Ssheee…die,” he said in his heavily accented Standard.

Kirk spoke as clearly as he could, “No! We will carry her.”

Now Johnson was at the Orion’s shoulder, speaking to him urgently, breathing heavily as if he had run a long way. “No, Commander,” he gasped, “you mustn’t. She’s a human, you know, a human.” He plucked ineffectually at the being’s arm. Haranash paid him no more heed than he would a buzzing insect. His sole attention was focused on Kirk.

The Orion gestured to the private on the ground. “Ssheee…mate?”

Kirk denied without thinking. “No, she is a soldier,” his arm encompassed the entire camp, “as we all are.” He could sense Spock stir behind him for a moment, then still. Too late, he considered the advantages of claiming O’Shea as his wife, the possible protection that would have afforded her. Surely, he reasoned, Johnson wouldn’t have believed it.

Haranash was speaking again. “Ssssoldier die,” he said reasonably, as if speaking to a child, and moved to turn towards the Orion with the disruptor.

“No!!” Kirk shouted again, taking a step forward. He wanted to say more, to make some reasoned plea, but he knew his words would be barely understood. The Orions would not listen to words, he instinctively knew. They were creatures of violent emotion, and definitive action, living in a world that did not admit the primacy of thought, or of feeling. But will…that was something that would be understood.

Haranash stood motionless, examining Kirk through slitted eyes, then looked at Spock behind him, silent as stone, then finally at the woman on the ground, who was beginning to stir. Squatting on the ground behind her, Perkins put one hand on her shoulder in an act of comfort. The motion did not escape the Orion’s eyes. He appeared to be thinking deeply.

There was a stirring within the Orion ranks as their commander did not move to order the human’s death, or kill her himself as was his due. Before it could become even a ripple, though, Haranash said, “Carrrry,” and motioned to Kirk, and then to O’Shea.

Kirk stood his ground. “Water,” he said firmly. “We all need water to continue, but especially her.”

Johnson nodded vigorously from his post by the Orion’s side. “Yes,” he urged, “why not give them some water?”

Haranash just showed his teeth again in his gruesome version of a smile. “No,” he said simply, then turned to Johnson, “but you, my friend, may have their portion.”

In just moments the column had been redeployed with O’Shea hoisted over Kirk’s shoulder. She seemed to be unconscious again but still as red-faced and hot as ever. Kirk reached up one hand to balance her and winced as he stumbled over a stone.

They walked on for a kilometer or so. The sun was beginning to approach the horizon. Soon a bitter chill would replace the blazing heat. Kirk tried hard to ignore the sweat trickling down the back of his neck and over his forehead into his eyes. He was using both hands now to balance the marine, and wouldn’t spare the hand to wipe the perspiration away. It was hard, though, to ignore the increasing pounding in his head. The burden over his shoulder got heavier and heavier. He found himself wishing fervently for Bones.

The Federation prisoners were all walking together in a protective group. Now Spock dropped back a few steps to inspect O’Shea’s face where it rested limply against Kirk’s back. He returned to his post next to Kirk grim-faced.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” Kirk asked through effort-clenched teeth.

“I believe our efforts may have been in vain.” Spock’s voice was flat.

Kirk clutched at the legs dangling over his chest. “What? You mean she’s dead?”

“No, but I do believe she may have sustained significant brain damage. Without the water the Orions seem intent on denying us, and the shade needed to bring down her temperature, the private is likely to suffer all the worst effects of heatstroke. Her temperature has not broken. This effort in which we are currently engaged is not beneficial.”

Kirk’s temper flared. “Well, what the hell did you expect me to do, Mister Spock? Let the Orions murder her in cold blood without blinking an eye?”

Spock studied the flushed face compassionately. “No, I did not. I expected you to act as you always have, with courage and understanding. You have always valued the lives of those who serve with you. It is entirely typical that you should take a chance on saving a life, no matter how remote that chance might be. But you must not blame yourself if we cannot save her.”

The martial light had gone out of Kirk’s eyes with those words, but it flared again as Spock reached over to the private’s body. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he gasped.

“Jim,” Spock replied as he settled O’Shea firmly in his own arms, “if we allow you to continue to carry this burden, you will become a burden as well.” The deep voice became very soft. “Do you wish this? It is illogical to allow your pride to bring you harm. I do not believe that the commander intended that you carry the Private the rest of the way yourself.”

Despite his pride protesting, Kirk had to admit that Spock was right, so he remained silent for a moment. Spock’s concern had been expressed in quite logical terms, but Kirk still knew all that was behind the words. Spock had begun being protective of him not long after their very first landing party duty together; his actions now were very familiar.

A sudden movement from the front of the column attracted his attention. Kirk watched as Wade Johnson darted to the front to talk with Haranash. There was no mistaking the man’s energy and enthusiasm. Kirk wondered if he were really in good physical shape, or if it was simply the fires of fanaticism that kept him going. He recognized that he had the inclination not to credit Johnson with any brains, or initiative, to simply see him as a cruel monster with money. Kirk reminded himself that this was the man who had headed an important research project for the combine, and who presumably was deeply involved in a conspiracy against the Federation. There were brains in there somewhere, even if they were twisted and warped now.

While he was watching the conversation between the two so-dissimilar allies, Haranash stiffened. Johnson appeared to speak urgently, almost pleading. Then the Orion made a chopping motion with his fist in emphatic denial. Johnson, obviously chagrined, moved back to his place.

Kirk commented, “I would say that not everything is wonderful in paradise.”

Perkins was walking right next to Kirk and had observed the same scene. He agreed. “I think you’re right, Captain. I’ve been wondering all along who exactly is in charge here. They each think they’ve got rights.”

Kirk turned to eye the marine. He knew nothing of the man, except for his loss, and the fact that Salazar had thought him a good officer.

“What do you think, Lieutenant?”

The man did not hesitate. “I think we’re in a hell of a mess, Captain, but I’ve lived through worse.” Perkins winced as the words came out of his mouth. How could he sound so forthright, how could he talk about living, when he felt as if his soul itself were dead?

Kirk noticed the change of expression and guessed the reason for it. His hand came up to gently grasp Perkins’ arm with a sympathetic squeeze, then fell away. Perkins looked at him with surprise, tears he would never allow to fall glistening in his eyes. Kirk spoke to him softly. “Yes, Lieutenant, this is a mess, but we’ll live through this too. We’ve got to, for the sake of the Federation, if for no other reason.”

Perkins swallowed hard and forced himself to return Kirk’s steady, open gaze. The sudden compassion from someone he did not know stunned him, and threatened to crumble all his carefully erected barriers. They kept in his emotion, restrained the grief, and had allowed him to function, so far, for the benefit of his comrades. Now these few sudden soft words, a touch upon his arm, unnerved him. He continued to look at Kirk, his gaze turning now from one of gratitude to wonderment. How could this man know?

Kirk was suddenly uncomfortable and sought refuge in the needs of the moment. He looked quickly at the head of the column. “Right now, however, I don’t quite see a way to exploit the differences between Johnson and the Orions.”

Perkins willingly followed Kirk’s lead. “We’ll find a way. Commander Spock said the same thing before you regained consciousness.”

They both looked at Spock, striding just before them with O’Shea still cradled in his arms. Perkins turned to Kirk to speak again, and found himself watching Kirk watching Spock. For more than a moment, he was surprised into silence. Once again this starship captain was presenting him with the unexpected. He had not expected to see tenderness on the handsome face, or warmth suffuse the hazel eyes, staring with ill-concealed affection at the straight Vulcan back. Perkins felt confused, as if he were trespassing on something he should not be seeing. With the aching sensitivity of the newly bereaved, Perkins clearly recognized what that look was. It was so familiar, it was a part of him, he’d seen such looks before, in Sergei’s eyes, on Sergei’s face….

Perkins stole a glance forward, to confirm for himself that Kirk was indeed looking at the Vulcan, and not at O’Shea. When he looked at the captain again, the man was staring at his feet, his face thoughtful, and worried. Kirk asked quietly, “Why did the Orions beat Spock and Purn? How did it happen?”

Perkins drew in a deep breath. “For no reason, no reason at all. They were careful not to go too far because they wanted us all to be able to walk and to carry you. Johnson was insistent on that. He wanted you along. You know they didn’t even touch me or O’Shea. At first I thought it was because we were marines and the others were from the _Enterprise_.” He laughed with no humor. “As if they had some misguided loyalty to other soldiers of the field. But it wasn’t that at all. I heard some of what Johnson was saying, how he was urging the Orions on…. That bastard!” Anger concealed until now burst forth. “He didn’t lay a hand on anybody, just directed the whole procedure from start until finish, taking some sick sort of satisfaction from it. He’s a sadist for sure, Captain. A sick, disgusting sadist who happens to hate two out of the five of us, just because they’re not human.”

Kirk’s eyes looked bleak, and color had leached out of his face with Perkins’ recital. “Yes,” he said softly, “I know. But he’s all we have to deal with now, isn’t he? And as you say, he hasn’t touched the three of us who are human.” Kirk remembered the kick that was not a kick. “Maybe, somehow, we can bargain with him, or even try to make him see reason. Use our safety as a bargaining chip for the others. It might be all we’ve got.” 

The captain’s voice was thin, and strained, yet his face was set in uncompromising lines. Perkins nodded, restraining himself from pointing out how unlikely it would be for them to have any bargaining chips at all. And yet…and yet, this man beside him was known for his past successes. He projected a hardened kind of resolve that Perkins was used to seeing only in the most battle tested of commanders. Despite Kirk’s youth, Perkins began to believe in what he said, to believe in him. To give Kirk his trust. And Perkins was surprised at himself. He hadn’t thought he had anything left to give.

 

*****

 

The sun had just slipped below the horizon, with a growing chill in the air before the Orions called a stop. They had walked almost half a kilometer up towards the mountains, and were now on a gently sloping shoulder of land which jutted out from one of the little peaks. The ground was relatively clear of rocks and debris, and the four prisoners settled down gratefully in a small area bounded by several large boulders. The Orions seemed content to have them remain in the offset area, for no one came to move them elsewhere. Even Spock seemed relieved to have the chance to rest. Ensign Purn had been carrying O’Shea, and he gently settled her down on her back, his long limbs folding gracefully as he hovered over her for a moment in tender solicitude. The marine had not stirred since her collapse, but her breathing had eased somewhat, although her skin was still quite warm to the touch.

“How is she?” Kirk asked the ensign as he turned away. Kirk realized with a start that they were the first words he had ever directed to the man, who had been under his command for several weeks, and was now sharing this ordeal.

The ensign withdrew his hand from the pulse points on the woman’s throat, and sank down cross-legged on the sand. “I do not know what to think, sir,” with the formality Kirk had long learned to expect from junior officers. “I wish I did.”

An Orion approaching forestalled further conversation. He gave them a leather-looking bag and a canteen that sloshed with the promise of water. Wordlessly, Perkins ripped off part of the sleeve from his shirt and carefully poured some water on it. Then he gently bathed O’Shea’s face with the cloth and tried to dribble some into the slack mouth. His face was very tender as he performed the small action, but his eyes were shuttered, as if his thoughts were very far away. Kirk wondered if the man were thinking of other times he had cared for a comrade’s wounds, maybe his lover’s wounds. What must Perkins be feeling, thinking now? Was he holding an overwhelming grief at bay with an iron will? Or was he dazed and disbelieving, as Kirk had seen others who denied the reality of their loss. Could he be depended upon when they tried to escape?

Kirk looked at the man carefully. If Perkins’ emotional control were really tentative, he might be explosive, unpredictable. His grief might make him reckless in a way that would endanger them all. Right now, he seemed calm, in control. Was it the calm of life’s wounds accepted, or the calm that heralded a storm? Their conversation earlier led Kirk to believe the man was dealing with his grief as best he could, and was focused on the problems of the present. But Kirk suspected that was just on the surface. Though Kirk trusted his usual snap evaluation of people, he was wary of Perkins now, and a little frustrated at his inability to pin him down. With Purn inexperienced and O’Shea unconscious, it would have helped to think that he could rely upon the older officer. But Perkins remained an enigma. The man had depths to him, had eyes that saw and yet did not see. There was no answer in the intent face. Kirk pushed the questions away, turning to food.

Dinner was a gloomy affair. Spock looked askance at the typical Orion field rations, and ate only the small portion that was definitely vegetarian. Kirk couldn’t blame him, and wondered at the source of the greasy food. He swallowed hard and decided it was probably better not to speculate. Perkins had to be called away from his post by O’Shea to eat. Even so he also consumed very little. Only Purn made any inroads at all.

Caught in fatigue, and a steady contemplation of what they could do to effect an escape, Kirk was surprised to hear Spock’s soft voice. “Captain, Commander Haranash approaches.”

They all rose as the Orion came towards them, flanked on both sides by soldiers already carrying unholstered disruptors, and trailed by Wade Johnson. For a moment, a tendril of fear curled in Kirk’s stomach, followed by a familiar shot of adrenalin. How likely was it that the Orions had fed them, ushered them all this way across the desolate land, even given them precious water, just to kill them now? Nevertheless, he quickly re-accessed their position, looking about him to fix all available cover firmly in his memory, searching for possible weapons. If they were going to have to fight…. His eyes slipped over O’Shea, and he began making plans to avoid her body if at all possible.

Haranash stopped before the four of them and gestured to the ground. When they all hesitated, he dropped cross-legged to the soil himself, for all the world like he was intending an amiable chat with friends. Kirk’s suspicions flared for an instant. He stared down at the green eyes turned guilelessly up towards his. Easy for the Orion, with two armed soldiers standing behind him. With a deep foreboding, but not knowing what else it was possible at this time to do, Kirk sat. Unnoticed, Johnson sat too.

Haranash indicated them all with a pointed finger. “Inforrrrmaaation. What do you herrre?”

Kirk shook his head once. He felt fairly confident that Haranash was bringing them to the Orion planetary headquarters, and that this was a preliminary questioning only. They would be safe in refusing to answer; Haranash probably did not expect to gain anything from this first effort.

“We refuse to answer. It is you and your people who are here where they do not belong, in Federation territory.”

The Orion stared at him for a moment, seemingly composed upon the sands. It was the calmest they had seen the fiery alien all the day. Somewhere in the back of Kirk’s head, an alarm bell began to go off. From the little he knew of these people, this was atypical, for an Orion to be so self-possessed.

Haranash’s gaze turned to the other three men. “Inforrrmationnnn?” he asked again, almost gently.

Kirk forestalled any reply, which might have been an angry one from the look on Perkins’ face. “Just name, rank, and ID number, gentlemen. We are prisoners of a foreign power, that’s all they deserve to get from us.”

Spock nodded in agreement, but never took his eyes off the Orion now casually leaning upon one knee. Haranash was playing a game, must be playing a game, but what was it? He exchanged a warning look with Kirk.

Perkins and Purn both nodded their agreement, and soon had muttered their names and other information. Spock and Kirk added theirs, and the Orion casually flipped his right hand up to shoulder height, his race’s gesture for assent, or acceptance. He rose to his feet again, bringing the others warily with him Was this all there would be to this strange interrogation? Relief registered on Ensign Purn’s face, but suspicion was clear in Kirk’s eyes.

Haranash gestured down to O’Shea. His request was unmistakable, and Perkins supplied him with the woman’s name and rank.

“That isss alll I need to know,” the Orion said, and he turned with a low-voiced command to the two guards still standing stiffly at attention. They each raised their weapons, one leveled at Ensign Purn, the other at O’Shea’s prostrate body, and fired, before anyone had time to draw a breath.

In less than two seconds it was done. Where two living, breathing beings had been before, there were now only limp bodies, each one marked with a burn hole. Purn’s already lifeless eyes bulged in disbelief, then his body flopped bonelessly to the ground.

There was a moment of stunned silence before Kirk turned towards the soldiers, murder in his heart. His hands were so tightly clenched they felt like stones. He took a threatening step forward. A cold anger such as he had rarely felt consumed him. Death in battle he had seen, accepted. Slaughter of innocent beings, unarmed, and at the mercy of their captors…. He burned with the desire for revenge, with the urgent need to defend himself and those with him from the same fate.

But the disruptors were now firmly aimed at the three of them. Kirk’s stomach tensed, waiting to feel the initial pain that would herald his death. The soldiers remained motionless. It was clear; they were not targets.

Haranash was still standing where he had been before, his arms folded over his chest, surveying the two bodies with evident satisfaction. Wade Johnson had backed up until he was up against a large boulder; his face was drained white, his body was shivering violently. His arms were also over his chest, but they were clutching as if to find some sort of protection in a world gone mad. He leaned over the rock and retched forth his dismay.

Kirk’s voice, when he found it, did not tremble. He wondered why, as his spirit was filled with an all-consuming hatred for the being standing before him. The being who was even now regarding him from amused looking eyes.

“Why? Why did you have to kill them?” He choked on the words, hating the fact that he was speaking to the Orion who had ordered the deaths, hating the Orion.

“Becaussse you valueddd them. You wisssshed to save herrrr. Nowww, you know you cannot. A leader mussst learrn thessse thingsss. Have you not learned?”

“No,” Kirk whispered, tearing his eyes from the Orion to gaze in horror at the lifeless bodies. The wound in O’Shea’s chest was still smoking. “No,” and this time the word was filled with the knowledge of what was right, “I’ve never learned.”

“Then you know it now. Your clan spiritsss are in my powerrrr. Know it. Thisss,” he indicated the charred remains, “isss the Orion way. You will ansssser questionssss when I asssk.” His steady eyes regarded them. “‘And they werrre low rrrrank, not imporrrrtannnnt.”

Kirk looked at the alien with a horrified question in his eyes. “Low rank? Not important? You mean you ordered them killed because…”

The Orion actually laughed at Kirk’s pain. “Yessss,” his teeth showing in a treacherous-looking grin, “Yessss, and all else you can imagine.” With another low-voiced command to the soldiers, Haranash was gone.

Without words the two Orion soldiers changed the settings on their weapons. Within seconds the two bodies were gone, lost in the disintegration beam, and the soldiers had withdrawn. Kirk understood that all had gone before had been deliberately planned, all a show designed to prove to them where the power in this small encampment resided. The Orions could just have easily used the disintegration setting from the beginning, but Haranash had wanted the Federation prisoners to see the bodies of their comrades. He had allowed them to carry O’Shea so that the pain of her murder would be all the greater. He had wanted to make a point, had used other living beings to do it.

The sound of air being gulped in heaving gasps drew Kirk from his thoughts, and he turned to see Johnson supporting himself unsteadily against the rocks. Kirk was at his side in a moment, grabbing at the front of the man’s shirt, pulling until the dilated eyes were only inches from his own.

“Do you see what you’ve done? They’re dead, Johnson, dead!” Kirk was shouting, giving the shoulders a bruising shake, fighting the urge to do much, much more. Johnson’s head lolled within his grasp, seemingly powerless with shock. “This wasn’t just a little game for your sick pleasure. Two beings have died! One of them was one of your precious humans, is that what you wanted?” The man’s eyes were glazed, seeking out the spaces where the bodies had been. Kirk shook him again, hard. “I said, is that what you wanted?”

Johnson returned his gaze to the angry face before him. “No,” he whispered, “no. I never intended…I never thought he would….” His voice trailed off as he stared off to the side again. “He wasn’t supposed to. The Orions said….”

Kirk wanted to hit him, wanted to throw the ineffectual, cruel little man to the ground and stomp out his rage on the well-cared for body. He contained his anger and poured his scorn into his words instead. “Did you really expect the Orions to honor their promises? Or haven’t you worked with them long enough to know what kind of beings they are?” Kirk released Johnson in disgust, then pushed him away.

Johnson appeared to be confused, as if his whole world were falling apart. He took a step back towards Kirk, imploring for his attention and his understanding. “No, you don’t understand. It was the only way. And the Orions have done what we’ve asked them to. Everything has been going just as we’d planned at the installation. Until I left, that is.” Uncertainly sounded in Johnson’s voice, and he bit at his lower lip. “It’s just been six weeks. I’m going back now to check on things. To make sure our people….”

Kirk jumped at the opportunity for information. “Going back to the installation? Is that where you’re taking us?”

“Yes.” Frightened eyes sought Kirk’s steely ones. “What…what do you think…” The man seemed incapable of adding to the question.

“I think you were a fool to expect the Orions to respect anything. If they’re willing to murder us, God knows what you’ll find.” Kirk could not find an ounce of pity for the man. He had just witnessed the murder of two of his people. Damn Johnson. “You goddamned stupid bastard!”

The epithet seemed to rouse Johnson. He drew himself up to his full height for the first time since the shootings, and turned to face Kirk as an adversary and not a sympathetic ear. “I am not stupid! I have a degree from the Pan American Institute. I’m a brilliant chemist. I’ve brought in more profits for the Combine than even my grandfather did. When my plan works, the Combine will be the most important, influential company in the Federation. No one will be able to ignore me then, no one. And it will work! It will!” The ranting words were hurled at them with all the confidence of an obsessed mind. “It will work, and nothing you can do will stop it!”

Kirk looked at Spock during the tirade, knowing that the Vulcan’s eidetic memory was recording every syllable, in case they were ever able to make a report of what they were hearing. It was proof of the conspiracy they’d suspected.

Spock flicked a glance at his captain, concerned that he was still standing so close to Johnson, who was so excited now he was literally spitting out his words.

Hysterical individuals were often imbued with great physical strength…. Without missing a word, Spock moved over to stand beside his captain protectively.

Johnson was still talking, almost shouting. “I’m not going to let you or anybody else stop me.” Arms gesticulated wildly. “All right, I hadn’t planned on tracking you down in the desert and bringing you along. But Haranash is the best the Orions have got. He knows what he’s doing. If he thought he had to get rid of a measly little private, all right then!” Johnson seemed to have lost all of his former shock and revulsion in his new enthusiasm. “For the other, well, good riddance to a damned alien!”

Johnson’s now fever-bright eyes slid from Kirk’s hard face to the Vulcan. He pointed a stubby finger in their direction. “Don’t get in my way, Kirk! Just don’t! You’re a traitor to the human race! I’d just love to get rid of your pet Vulcan there, and Haranash wouldn’t mind letting a few of his people work him over either. See some of that disgusting green blood.” The energized human stomped away, calling enthusiastically for Haranash.

His departure left the three men standing alone in the gloom. In place of the angry shouting that had filled the small clearing before there was now only silence. Slowly Kirk turned to look behind him, where Private O’Shea had been, and where Ensign Purn had stood. He ached with regret.

Spock broke the silence. “Mister Johnson is a man of decided opinions.”

Kirk actually winced under the softly spoken words. “Yes. And I should have known better than to have provoked him with my cursing. Calling him stupid. I’m the stupid one!” He gently pounded one fist into the other. “I almost had him on our side. Almost had him turned against the Orions because of…what they’d done.” Kirk pressed his lips together and looked down at the ground.

Spock reached out to touch one shoulder, then let his hand fall away. But he had his captain’s attention. “Jim…Captain, Mister Johnson is obviously unpredictable. There is no way you could have known if anything you said to Johnson would have moved his mind from regret to violence. It is likely that his need to prove himself within the Combine would override his reluctance to harm humans in any case.”

Kirk tried to smile at Spock’s obvious effort to reassure. Yet, he knew his friend would never use false words, or reasoning, to do so. What he had said was true. But there was another hurt tearing at his heart. “I know. Still…I haven’t done anything right. Did you hear what Haranash said?” Kirk looked at Spock with anguished eyes. “He picked Purn and O’Shea to kill because of their rank! I was the one who told them to give their name, rank, and I.D. number. I played right into his hands. I signed their death warrants.” His voice caught at the last words.

Jim was in obvious distress. Momentarily, Spock did not know how to respond. He felt buffeted by the depth of Kirk’s so obvious emotions and his own empathic response to them. Spock also keenly felt regret at the deaths, but he knew that his tightly leashed emotions could not compare with the pain consuming Kirk. Jim would always take responsibility for those under his command, felt each loss, even under the best of circumstances, as a personal wound. Yet, what could he, so inexperienced in the words of emotion and comfort, offer to his friend, this man who was his lover? Spock felt his inadequacies and wished that he could somehow say the words his heart was speaking, but they stuck in his throat and refused to be uttered. His impulse to touch in order to reassure was paralyzed before his brain could transmit the message through his nerve endings. He bitterly regretted his inability to respond. He berated himself, while knowing that Jim would not blame him. After all, Spock was acting now as he had acted countless times before. As a friend. A friend who had never been able to respond in similar circumstances. For as long as Spock could remember, it had been McCoy who had stepped in to comfort Jim. Never himself.

But McCoy was not here, and Spock was no longer just a friend. He was a lover, with responsibilities he was only just beginning to comprehend. Was this all he had to offer, after all that Jim had done for him? Silence in the face of need? Stoicism when a touch would comfort? It was as Spock had feared. A lifetime of being unable to meet Jim’s emotional requirements stretched before him.

Kirk took a deep, shuddering breath and turned away to look out over the encampment. The survey was a bleak one, the face drawn and tense. Spock realized that Jim was as sad as he had ever seen him. Spock would not allow himself to ignore that sadness. Acknowledging their physical passion for one another had been difficult, but it had brought such wondrous rewards. Responding now might be difficult, but what greater reward than to ease pain in one so precious?

He steeled himself to ignore Perkins’ presence, grasped his friend’s upper arms, and gently turned Kirk. The open vulnerability in his face touched him as much as the sadness had. “Jim. I grieve with thee. I also feel the touch of despair at such vibrant lives extinguished. There can be no recompense for their loss. But surely you must know you were not the instrument of their deaths? You must not blame yourself. Any more than you could be blamed for Private O’Shea’s genetic susceptibility to the sun and heat, you cannot be blamed for Haranash’s actions. You know this, and yet you insist on assuming all responsibility.” His voice turned soft, caressing. “It is not logical.” His hand went up to cup the undamaged cheek, his thumb making a small caressing motion. Jim’s skin was smooth beneath his touch. Spock knew his words were logical; he hoped his actions provided the rest of what Jim needed. “You relied on standard procedure for interrogations, but if you had not, do you really believe Haranash would not have acted?”

Kirk blinked, and looked away for a moment. When his eyes locked with Spock’s again, they were clearer. Still sad, but now glowing back with something it took a moment for Spock to identify. Gratitude? Surprise?

His hand dropped back to Jim’s arm, and he continued to read what those eyes were saying. Jim had not really needed to be convinced of what Spock had said; what he had needed was an outlet for his emotional reactions. Someone with whom to share the sorrow. If Jim had been alone, or with the Spock of old, he would have looked out upon the Orion camp, struggled with his feelings, tucked them away to be dealt with later, and turned back the all-efficient commander. But he had not been alone today, and Spock felt the changes within himself that made him new. He felt a soaring joy that he was here, for Jim, and that they were sharing in this special way.

“You know he would have acted.” It was a statement of fact.

Kirk sighed, but it was a sigh of acceptance. “Yes, I know it.” His own hands rose to rest on Spock’s shoulders. “But, it’s hard to admit.” Spock gave a quick nod. “They were both so young. And that bastard Johnson!”

Spock nodded again. “He is indeed a…despicable character.” He deliberately used the emotion-laden word. “We have met too many like him in our travels.”

“Yes. There always seems to be a…despicable character in our way.” Kirk looked at Spock with a glint as he repeated what his friend had said. Spock tilted his head to one side. Their arms fell naturally to their sides. Kirk began to pace, and Spock saw the easy reemergence of the most successful starship commander the Federation had ever known. He watched the forceful step, and upright stance, and knew Kirk was now intent upon their mission. He felt his heart swell with a quiet pride, for he had helped initiate the change.

“Maybe we’ll be able to influence Johnson anyway,” Kirk said. “You said yourself he was unpredictable. We’ve used unpredictability before.”

“I wouldn’t want to hold my breath on that one. I think he’s crazy as a loon.” Perkins’ forthright comment startled both of them. They had been concentrating so hard on each other, they had almost forgotten he was there.

“Indeed, Mister Perkins, but it is wise to be alert for various contingencies, no matter how unlikely. And the captain has a certain…flair,” Spock looked sideways, “in dealing with disturbed personalities.”

“Right,” Kirk grunted, “that’s me, psychiatrist to all the psychos of the galaxy.” He looked around again, seeing most of the Orions already rolled up in bedrolls, with five hefty guards silhouetted against the dark sky, all looking in their direction. “Looks like it’s time for bed.”

Kirk walked over to where Johnson had been sick behind the rocks, and relieved himself upon the evidence. Then he kicked sand over it all, the little puffs of dust not nearly indicative enough of the fury that he put into each short jab of his foot. Then he returned to where Spock was placing the remaining food in the leather bag. Perkins wordlessly offered him the water. It tasted metallic and flat going down. The night was very quiet, not even the wind stirring the sand in endless patterns. One of the planet’s small satellites was already high in the sky, reflecting a weak white light that sketched vague shadows on the ground. Suddenly, Kirk felt very, very tired.

Spock had started running his hands over the sand, picking up small rocks and pebbles and throwing them to one side. Shortly, he was satisfied, and he indicated the cleared area with a lifted brow. The three of them silently eased themselves down for sleep, Perkins with a groan, Spock with a stiffness that was very obvious, Kirk carefully favoring his bruised face. Each of them were on their backs, staring up at the star-studded sky. The sand was not nearly as warm as Kirk wished it would be.

After a while Perkins spoke. “I know they’ll be coming after us. Commander Salazar is the best there is.”

There was another silence. Kirk wondered if he should bother to respond to the comment. Perkins was as aware of the realities as he was.

Spock solved the problem. His voice sounded slightly strained as it came out of the darkness from Kirk’s right. “Commander Salazar, in the short time I have known him, has proven to be most efficient officer.”

Silence again. So much for Salazar. For Kirk to add to the general approbation now would be ridiculous. Besides, he had something else on his mind.

“I’m not sure I understand Haranash.” He spoke straight to the stars, his eyes shaded by one hand flung across his forehead. “What kind of game is he playing? Are the Orions genuine partners with the Johnsons or not?”

Spock again. He still sounded not quite like himself, and Kirk wondered momentarily if his injuries were worse than they had appeared. “I would say that at the start of this patrol, Mister Johnson was under the impression he was the dominant partner in the relationship. Recent events…would tend to disprove that notion. It is my belief that the Orions are attempting to wrest control of the project, whatever it may be, from the Combine leaders. Haranash’s apparent contempt for Johnson may stem from such a plan.”

“Haranash.” Kirk made a face at the glowing moon above him. “He’s everything an Orion should be…or shouldn’t be. Bet his momma’s proud.”

“Captain, as you are well aware, Orion culture does not acknowledge maternal rights. I am sure there is no mother involved.”

“Right. Spontaneous generation would be just that bastard’s style.”

Kirk heard Perkins grunt from the other side of Spock, and then rustling sounds that must have been the man turning over in the sand. Spock remained stretched out on his back. Kirk shivered a bit, and wished they had the bedrolls, or even field jackets that had been left behind with the Federation forces. The desert was only going to get colder tonight. Spock was going to freeze….

Then the significance of the strain in Spock’s voice hit him. Spock was freezing already. Well, there was only one way to remedy that problem, given the lack of generosity of the Orions.

Kirk rolled over towards the shivering Vulcan body until he was up against Spock’s side. He was rewarded with an indrawn breath. Before Spock could verbalize his objection he’d slipped an arm over a narrow chest and hugged tight. His breath whispered in a pointed ear.

“Are you a little warmer now, Mister Spock?” Already he could feel Spock’s own body heat seeping into his front side. He could also feel the objection to the intimate contact gather force in the stiffened upper arm muscles on which his fingers now rested.

“Jim…Captain….” Spock was acutely aware that every word and sound they made would be clearly heard by Perkins. It seemed imperative for him to voice his displeasure with the captain’s actions. Yet, to be perfectly truthful with himself, and it was always logical to seek such self-knowledge, Jim’s arm about him had filled his body with an incoherent peace even more than it had warmed him. It was quite astonishing how his psyche had reacted to Jim’s motions of turning over, reaching across him, and settling an arm, just a single arm, upon his upper body. It was…fascinating.

Spock fought down the pleasure the touch of his lover brought him, and concentrated instead on the presence of Lieutenant Perkins. When he did, he became acutely uncomfortable once again, and renewed his protest. “Captain,” he whispered, “there is no need for….

“Spock,” the voice sounded exasperated, “how many times in the past have we huddled together to share body warmth, on one planetary expedition or another?”

The darkness hid the upswept eyebrow. Spock immediately saw where his captain was leading, and of course recognized the implacable tone of voice. He also detected just the slightest sound of teasing, and of pleasure expressed. Jim was smiling against his neck.

Spock cleared his throat, necessary in the night air that was already affecting his respiratory passages, and wondered if Jim were adversely affected by the sound, as they were in such close proximity. “We have resorted to similar actions seven times in the past, Captain, although once was upon the Cygnian freighter on which we were forced to spend the night.”

A head nodded briskly. The action sent shivers up and down Spock’s sensitized skin. “Right. So why shouldn’t we do the same here? What’s so different about the cold tonight, and the two of us, I mean the three of us, shivering alone when maybe we could be half-way warm together?” Jim was definitely teasing now, but Spock could detect the steely commander there too. Jim knew perfectly well what was different, but he was also telling Spock his sensibilities could not be catered to here.

Spock sighed, and mentally bowed to the inevitable. Jim would have his way, and of course it was quite logical for them to conserve their body heat. How odd, that he should be the one to react emotionally, and against reason, and Jim be the one to press a logical action upon him. Had the transference of characteristics between mated pairs which he had heard of already started with the two of them? Spock suppressed a small shudder. He valued Jim greatly, but he did not desire to succumb completely to the realm of emotion.

Determined to gather the tattered shreds of his image as a rational being, Spock turned slightly within the confines of his captain’s arm, and whispered, taking care to keep his voice perfectly expressionless, “Would it not be logical to also include Lieutenant Perkins in this activity?”

Spock could almost feel the muscles of Jim’s face stretch into a smile, so close were they now. “Touché!” The arm about him grasped hard once, then the fingers splayed wide into a definite caress. “That’s my logical Vulcan.”

Satisfied more than he should have been by the affectionate term, and knowing it, Spock turned his head to address the motionless form two feet to his right side. “Mister Perkins, conservation of body heat is imperative in this climate. If you would move yourself two-thirds of a meter towards me, we would facilitate the achievement of that goal.”

Perkins had been an aware witness to every word of the exchange. Something inside of him had frozen in place with the very first note of teasing affection. He’d listened, knowing his heart was crying, and yet not letting the cries reach open air. He’d heard, knowing his soul was aching, and yet holding the hurt at bay. These two, the human and the Vulcan. The famous starship captain and the unflappable first officer, neither of them anything like what Perkins had expected. Why did they have to hurt him so, with their reminders of how it used to be? What Sergei had given him, now gone forever?

But the anger couldn’t be sustained, his grief turned into bittersweet memories, and it was with a sigh that he turned to fit himself against Commander Spock’s back. He was immediately warmer; it reminded him of so many other nights…. And Perkins knew, he would never, ever, live those nights again.


	16. Chapter 16

The next day started out with more of the same, except that the Orions appeared to be much more vigilant in guarding the three remaining Federation prisoners. But they had no intention of trying to escape until they had pinpointed the location of the headquarters. Such a plan had not been mentioned again by the two _Enterprise_ officers. But an hour after they had started walking, Kirk realized that Perkins had not been informed, and whispered it in brief words.

Perkins just nodded briefly, keeping his eyes on the ground. The man had seemed withdrawn ever since their rude awakening by an Orion guard. The snub nose of a disruptor being poked in their sides had brought Spock to his feet only a millisecond after his captain to assume a defensive stance. The two men had stood side-by-side facing the menace. Perkins had remained on the ground, squinting up at them through the dawning sunlight with a curious expression Kirk could not identify.

Kirk wasn’t able to spend much time speculating on Perkins’ sudden withdrawal. Johnson had turned into a manic butterfly, flitting back and forth from the front of the column to where they marched sandwiched between Orions. His words were generally pleasant. He spoke of his hopes for the Ag colony, his enthusiasm for a new Combine project, even apologized for the long walk. No trace of the anger from last night remained, and Kirk trusted him even less. Johnson never addressed a comment to Spock, and rarely spoke to Perkins.

After a while Johnson approached them with a large pack in his hands. “Here,” he said, handing the burden to Kirk, “let your friend work like the pack horse his kind should really be.” Incredibly, the words were said with a smile and a congenial nod in Spock’s direction.

Kirk’s lips tightened to contain his angry retort, but he took the pack. What else could he do? If there were going to be a chance for escape, now was not it. They would have to endure the attention of this repulsive individual; it was certainly preferable to tangling with Haranash, who so far had left them strictly alone.

The weight of the pack surprised Kirk. It was with a grunt that he picked it up from where he had let it drag along the ground. At least eighty pounds, maybe more. Normally, Spock would have no trouble with it, but now….

“Go on, put it on him.” Kirk gladly turned away from the light in the blue eyes, the avid gaze that flicked from himself to Spock. Spock silently turned his back and extended his arms to fit into the straps, but Kirk ached for the dishonor. Then another vision assailed him. One of the last times they’d made love together, Spock had smiled a gentle smile before he’d turned his back to Kirk in utter trust and love, offering him exactly what Kirk yearned for. More than the body, though, the smile had entrusted him with all that Spock had always hidden before…. So much courage, to reveal so much….

How could he do this to Spock, the finest being he had ever known? How dare Johnson treat this marvelous combination of strength and sensitivity like an animal? The small indignity loomed large. For a moment he hesitated, tempted to throw the eighty pounds on the ground and turn in righteous fury. Spock’s head turned. Kirk could see a warning eye and one uplifted eyebrow.

Then, unexpectedly, Perkins was there on the other side, helping him make the decision that had to be made, grabbing the far strap and hoisting it into place along with Kirk with a gentleness that surprised him. The marine caught the captain’s eye, carefully and quite deliberately winked, then slowly reached up to test a fastener. A wave of gratitude washed over Kirk as he followed the other’s example. The two of them worked on settling the burden slowly, reaching to test each fabric support, re-attaching one strap into a more workable knot. They made each motion a gesture of support for Spock, for each other. Johnson never realized any of the emotional nuances displayed so obviously for him to see. Finally, Kirk smoothed one hand gently over the tensed shoulders, careful of the bruises that might be hidden by the blue tunic, needing to feel the heat of his lover’s body.

Kirk turned back to Johnson, who was still staring. “Is that all?” he said pointedly, in dismissal. The blue eyes settled on his face.

“All? Probably not. Haranash says he wants to question you….” The marble eyes slid off to where the Orion leader was walking with confident strides, then returned to Kirk. “But not yet. Not for a while.” His gaze shifted to Spock, walking without obvious concern under this new burden. “But I can’t say what will happen to him. I’ve met Vulcans before, you know. They aren’t so much. I thought maybe this one would be different. Now I’m glad Walls didn’t manage to kill him after all. I wouldn’t have had the chance to find out that this Vulcan was really just like all the others. Not worth dealing with.”

A burst of realization ran through Kirk, but he kept his face carefully schooled in a look of mild surprise. Kept the anger that this man seemed to easily bring to the surface carefully hidden too. “You? You’re the one who planted the TNT on the _Enterprise_?”

Johnson smiled, a genuine smile filled with pride. “Yes, I was. The best part of this whole plan,” his arm waved at the barren landscape in an encompassing gesture, “and it was all by accident. It was just luck I met Walls in the bar of the Sheraton. Just luck that he was drunk enough to talk and mad enough to talk about his sister, and how he hated aliens.” Johnson looked at Kirk, and then at Perkins, demanding their attention. “It might have been luck, but I was smart enough to follow through on it. I’ve always done that, you know. Followed through on my opportunities. Protected myself, and the family. No one knew where the TNT came from, or my suggestions for its use. No one, not even Walls himself. It was a brilliant plan.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was.” Kirk grimaced into the sand, remembering the two who had died, his own despair as he saw Spock’s limp form lying on the transporter pad. He jerked his head around as an angry hand landed on his arm.

“Kirk, don’t patronize me! My achievements are real! What I am trying to accomplish will advance the well-being of humans all through the Federation, the galaxy!” The fervor of the true-believer rang in his voice.

“But what about the ones you hurt along the way? What about Private O’Shea and Ensign Purn? All the humans killed or enslaved by the Orions in the pursuit of this dream of yours? How do you explain them?”

Johnson paused for a moment, as if searching for words. When they came, he sounded calm, rational. “I…I regret what has had to be done. Sometimes there are sacrifices that have to be made.” He left abruptly again for the front of the line.

Kirk stepped closer to his first officer. “Are you all right?” he asked, eyes sweeping along the heavy pack before returning to their resting place in welcoming depths.

“I am functional.” Spock would not lie, not even to reassure Kirk. “You must take care not to provoke Johnson too far, Captain. His reaction might be unpredictable.”

Be careful, the brown eyes begged, in words the Vulcan could not say aloud. Be careful for me.

Perkins observed the exchange, lowered his head and watched his footfalls in the sand.

Another hour of walking and they turned abruptly into the hills. The pace of the Orions in the lead quickened, as if they were nearing some important goal. During the conferences on Starbase 15, everyone had agreed upon the planet’s only chain of very old mountains as the likely place for a hidden installation. Spock had believed the limestone formations would be riddled with large caves and the remains of old riverbeds, a potentially ready-made site for illicit activity. The rock itself would effectively shield against any detection from sensors, would explain why the _Enterprise_ had recorded nothing unusual during their first visit to the colony. From the actions of the Orions now, holding tricorder-like instruments and obviously searching for something, all those Starbase 15 guesses had been right. They were heading underground, where Salazar wouldn’t be able to detect them, assuming they were being followed.

Kirk looked over towards Spock, knowing the other would be thinking the same thing. But the first officer’s attention was occupied with loosening one of the straps of his pack that came within reach of the long fingers. While Kirk stared, holding his breath, the bright metal clasp was freed of its matching strap. One mighty but surreptitious tug later, the clasp was hidden within a hand. Kirk quickly looked away. It wouldn’t be good to be seen paying so much attention to Spock right now. He knew that the obviously artificial artifact, too heavy to be blown away in the desert winds, would be dropped casually, but ever so efficiently in the best possible place for Salazar and his force to observe it. They could only hope it would be found.

The entrance must have been a back door. Just a darker than usual depression in the earth, which kept stretching further and further back into the rock until it was apparent they were at one side of a huge cavern. It was impossible to tell how large the cave really was, despite the sunlight that filtered in weakly from the natural entrance. Beyond the dim circle of illumination there was only darkness, made all the more forbidding for its contrast to the light.

Kirk blinked his eyes rapidly as he felt his pupils attempt to make the impossible adjustment. The area in which they were congregated was an irregular slope pocked with stones and small boulders; there was even some soil that had apparently blown in from the surface. Just out of their ability to see were the suggestions of stalagmites and stalactites; the air was a lot cooler than outside. Kirk shivered. He felt movement from next to him as Spock wrapped his arms about his own body. Maybe the pack would help to keep him warm.

The Orions were busy putting on jackets and headlamps; as they flared on one by one the contours of the cave became more apparent. Still, the light did not reach more than twenty feet or so before the darkness leached it of all use.

Johnson approached them again. “We didn’t bring any extra lamps or jackets,’ he said apologetically to Kirk and Perkins. “I’m sure you’ll be able to do without.”

“Where are we going?” Kirk asked. It seemed incredible to him that they hadn’t asked the question before.

“Oh, a little walk,” the man replied airily. “The Orions wanted to keep the factory really hidden; it seemed little enough for me to do.”

Kirk took the opening. “And what do you think you’ll find at the factory, Johnson?” He paused a moment, to let the possible scenarios enter the man’s mind. “Are the Orions really your allies, after the way Haranash treated you last night? Treated humans? Haranash hasn’t shown you a lot of respect, has he? The Orions aren’t your friends, we are.” Even his whisper seemed too loud in the darkness of the cave.

Johnson shrugged off the hand Kirk had rested on his arm. “Of course the Orions aren’t my friends, Kirk. This is a business deal, for God’s sake. We are in business together.”

“And O’Shea? A woman? A human?” He’d said it before and Johnson hadn’t reacted. But it was the only weapon he had.

Johnson fumbled with the buttons on his jacket. “A…mistake. I wouldn’t have hurt her.”

“But the Orions did. They killed her, Johnson. Is that what you normally do with your business partners?” Kirk tried to forget what this man had done with the TNT on board the _Enterprise_. “What will they do to us, to you when we’re no longer useful to them?” Kirk reattained his hold on Johnson’s arm and prepared to gamble. “I have a feeling you might not like what you see when we get to this factory of yours, Johnson. Things have changed since you started this. This might be your only chance of getting out alive, too.” Kirk’s voice dropped even lower than the whisper he had been using, but he was so close to Johnson’s face now he knew he could be heard. “Help us. Help us to escape. For humans. Before you give the Orions all they need to take over the Federation. Help us to escape.”

For more than a moment it had seemed that Johnson was listening to him, more than listening, thinking about what Kirk was saying. The moments passed. Johnson turned towards him angrily. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I’ve worked years for this, years. I won’t throw it away!” He stomped away, taking the light from his head lamp with him.

Kirk turned towards the other two and spread his hands out in admitted defeat. “I had to try.” His form looked ghostly in the gloom.

“Indeed. I would not say you have failed. At least you have given Mr. Johnson food for thought.” As always, Spock looked for possibilities. Kirk gave him a wan smile, and turned to find Perkins giving him that strange look again.

Then they were being urged forward by the Orions. They followed what must have been a riverbed millions of years old, finding a careful way over rocks and around formations that revealed only a part of their beauty in the dim light. There was the sound of boots hitting stone, an occasional muffled exclamation, perhaps an Orionese curse, sometimes the chink of metal against metal. Otherwise, there was just the sound of their breathing. Kirk had visited a cave once as a child on a family vacation; then he had been fascinated with the faraway drip-drip of water still forming the mighty vaults and passageways. But this planet had become a desert world thousands of years ago, and the cave was now a dusty relic to what once had been. The slightly acid rainwater which had penetrated the limestone and gathered in an underground river was no more. The stalactites and stalagmites which they were walking around, under, and over had been formed eons ago by the relentless caress of water, but now were frozen in a state that could only decay.

They spent the next thirty minutes wending their way through cavern after cavern, connected by narrow passageways that occasionally made them stoop to pass. Kirk concentrated hard on memorizing their route, hoping they would get the opportunity to retrace it in an escape. His head began to throb again, the aftermath of his concussion and the disorientation brought on by the darkness. More than once he wondered if it would be possible for them to break away into the unseen depths of the cave. But each time he looked to see Orion eyes firmly fixed upon them, and knew that attempting escape now would be virtual suicide.

There were sudden words and movement from the front of the line. Spock edged forward a bit in an attempt to hear what was being said.

“There is a rockslide ahead that blocks our route,” he breathed in Kirk’s ear. “They are attempting to find a way around it.” Spock did not bother to translate the various orders given, the intent was obvious. He did manage to warn, “Haranash approaches,” before the Orion commander stood before them.

He gestured to the three. “You willlll lead the way.” They were manhandled to the front of the line and pushed towards one side. Obviously, the Orions did not trust their own people in the uncertainties of the cave.

A voice rang out, Johnson’s. “No, not the humans first! Make the Vulcan go first! The Vulcan, you fool!” Rough hands grabbed at Spock and thrust him, stumbling, into the darkness.

Kirk wouldn’t let Spock go alone, but edged up right behind him. The alternate route the Orions had indicted wasn’t nearly as well defined as the old riverbed, but it was clearly a path of some sort that seemed to lead in the direction they had been walking. Maybe a long ago tributary?

They strained to see; the glow of illumination from the head lamps behind marked the trail for only a few feet before them. The path turned for a few meters, then seemed to settle on hugging the left wall of the cave. After a few minutes of silent walking, carefully putting one foot before another, the path began a gentle upwards climb. Soon they were suspended more than twenty meters above the rock-studded floor of the cave. Kirk became so aware of the drop-off to his right that he found himself leaning in the opposite direction. He forced himself upright, then had to fight the tension that developed in his right side. He could clearly hear each of his own footsteps, each of Spock’s footsteps, and the rustle of all the feet behind him. He strained to hear beyond that, strained his eyes beyond the insignificant light from behind, tried to extend his senses to detect…what?

The scraping of boot against rock, a sharp crackling sound that started out beyond the limits of human hearing and grew until its roar filled the cavern. The sound of pebbles falling over the precipice, the rush of air as dirt and rock crumbled around him and slowly began to descend into the darkness. His footing began to give way. He threw himself to the side to hug the pathway. Then, the excruciatingly slow motion realization that there was a body still behind him struggling for balance against impossibly disintegrating footing, and the knowledge that the body was Spock….

Reflexes took over faster than thought, and before he knew it Kirk had whirled around on hands and knees and was facing the form that was wildly grappling for some purchase against the hard vertical rock. He threw himself across the five feet separating them and reached Spock’s arm just as the Vulcan’s body was slowly slipping over the edge. Kirk scrambled for a firm grip, was frustrated when his handful of cloth began to give way, and finally closed his fingers and palm just above Spock’s elbow. Kirk gripped so tightly he could feel the strain in the muscles of his hand immediately. He stiffened in an attempt to slow their now gradual slide into the precipice, and found purchase with his knees against some blessed, blessed rocks that seemed solidly embedded in what used to be the pathway. He dug in tightly with his body jackknifed, his gut hardened against the strain of being pressed so tightly over itself, his knees jammed against the life-saving rocks.

Spock’s hand had closed around Kirk’s own arm in a steely grip, and he stilled his thrashing movement to hang suspended over the edge of the cliff by this single lifeline. For a moment he swung like the pendulum of a clock, slowly ticking out the seconds until he would fall to his death. His legs were totally free of the support of the rock wall, hanging into space. The left arm which pulled up over his head in Kirk’s grasp scraped urgently against the rock that had been revealed when the outer two feet of pathway had crumbled. After a moment, his body slowly began to rotate because of the pressure exerted from above. Spock’s nose, then cheek scraped slowly against the rock.

Then Kirk reached out into the darkness in an effort to find another hold. His fingers curled, then extended, he flailed about searching for something of Spock to grab onto, but the Vulcan’s body was stretched to its limit beyond Kirk’s reach. The strain of holding Spock and the pack with just one arm began to tell on Kirk’s shoulder muscles, the movement made it worse, and he knew he had to find another hold or Spock would fall….

“Come on.” Kirk gasped through lips drawn tight with effort. “Come on….” His cheek was laid flat out on the dirty cave floor by the extension of his arm, so he couldn’t see Spock, and his own breathing was so harsh and loud it drowned out all other sounds. But he could feel the strength of Spock’s fingers even through the shirt he wore. Could feel the tension where his own fingers curled around the muscles and sinews. It would be the last thing of Spock he would ever experience if their other arms didn’t connect soon.

“Come ON!!” he rasped, putting every ounce of command he possessed into the plea, and every desperate fear of loss he’d ever had in every nightmare. And with a convulsive heave Spock managed to pull his arm up to grab Kirk’s.

Around them, dimly, Kirk could now hear other sounds. Loud voices as Perkins screamed, “Let me go! Let me go! I can pull them up!” and a struggle as he apparently scuffled with someone holding him back. Haranash’s deep-voiced command, “The path willll fallll. Let it take themmmm with it.” A murmur from Johnson, indistinguishable. But although Kirk’s mind heard the sounds, identified each voice, it was all very far away. It had no place in his world. His universe had foreshortened, shrunk down upon itself. It held just two heaving bodies, connected by mortal flesh in a desperate copulation determined to bring forth life. The only universe where their union would be fertile. It held just Spock’s face, his chin pressed painfully against the rock, the bruised brown eyes locked with Kirk’s in what might be their final good-bye. It held just fear, and love that choked and gave life and filled them with exultation and sorrow, and the affinity that connected them more surely than their merely mortal straining arms. For they would always be attuned….

With great deliberateness, Kirk pressed his knees against their purchase on the pathway, and the rocks held. He pulled, and put more pressure on his screaming arm and gut muscles then he thought he could possibly withstand. Spock moved a fraction up, then another fraction, but it wasn’t much, it wasn’t enough. He was a dead weight with no purchase of his own to add to Kirk’s effort. His legs and lower torso were hanging freely over space, and his arms were stretched tight as far as they could go. Without the twice-damned pack Kirk might have had a chance even with Spock’s denser-than-human weight; with its extra eighty pounds he was exerting all his strength in a desperate effort to stay even with the gravity that pulled Spock into the pit.

And now Kirk’s knees began to tremble, and the sharp edges of the rocks against which they were braced began to cut straight through his flesh. Kirk ignored the growing pain, ignored the pressure in his shoulders, and pulled back again with his stiffened body, with all his strength. He held there for a minute, Spock moving so imperceptibly that he barely changed his position at all. Kirk held on with his body trembling and bent over his aching, tearing gut, his eyes tightly closed with effort and dread, until suddenly the tension snapped. His body could take the strain no longer, and with a gasp he was jerked forward until he was abruptly lying flat out on his stomach against the rock and dirt. The jerking as Spock fell the extra three feet was agony, but Kirk did not lose his hold. How could he lose his hold when their arms had been graven together for all the eternity of this universe?

The rocks cutting cruelly into his knees were the only thing that saved them. His fall forward jabbed his knees straight into the sharp edges for just the moment that they needed to stop the momentum of their plunge, and Kirk ground them desperately even further in an effort to regain his hold. It worked for a moment, before their locked bodies were pulled inexorably, against the friction of Kirk’s body along the dirt, over that life-saving purchase. Spock’s fingers convulsed against Kirk’s arms, and he cried out for the first time. “Jim, let me go!”

Kirk’s legs were frantically searching for some hold against the smooth rock, trying to pull his knees up against something again for purchase. He heard the plea, again from so far away, it drove a knife into him with its love, drove a wedge of fear into him with its promise of desolation and loss. Through a haze of red and effort, he chanted to himself. He would not give in, he never gave in, he’d fight till he was dead before he gave in….

And then he found it, the same group of rocks that had held his knees were now there for his suddenly convulsively strong feet and toes. He locked his feet and ankles around the one large rock and their slide forward stopped. Kirk raised his head to meet Spock’s eyes, and gasped out, “No, I’ll never let you go. Never!!”

They stared at each other for a lifetime. Their iron grip brought them so close, face to face, almost close enough to kiss. Spock’s eyes did not plead for his life, but for the life he placed above his own. Kirk’s eyes became hard, implacable, and said “No” with the same determination he brought to an emergency on the bridge. His inner chant consumed his being, and he could imagine no other action but the steady grip on beloved arms, and the will to continue for all time.

“Please,” Spock whispered, his soft voice in such counterpoint to the strain their bodies endured. “Please, Jim….”

And Kirk knew Spock meant his plea, meant it with full knowledge that it would cause his death, but anguished beyond belief at the thought that his death would bring Kirk’s as well. For just a split second in time Kirk allowed himself to imagine the aftermath of Spock’s fall, himself staring into the black depths of both cave and soul. It was impossible. His mind bounced off the image and rebounded not to the equally impossible present, but to the past, the immediate past which had held such beauty, such joy….

…. Waking to a warm presence in the morning, sharing the innocent gift of closeness with uninhibited pleasure, starting the day with a communion of love….

…. stepping out of the shower and being unexpectedly engulfed by a large towel held by his fully clothed first officer, being caressed with every stroke of the drying cloth, roughly turned and kissed full upon the lips with such hunger….

….calling Spock “love” in a moment of tenderness, and watching the flushed pleasure such a simple endearment caused the half-breed being who had endured taunts and insults and indifferent rejection….

….waiting for Spock to return from a late shift inspection and falling asleep in the red-lit room, waking to find Spock entranced at the sight of his lover bathed in ruby light and wanting only him….

The images faded back into the darkness. Reality was loss, pain of body and soul, reality was the touch he’d hoped to have for a hundred years slipping slowly away. Kirk couldn’t bear to look into those soft eyes, couldn’t bear not to look. “Spock…” he breathed in agony, knowing that death was waiting only seconds away….

There was the sound of a scuffle nearby, the hoarse cry of an Orion in pain. A strong voice cried “Hold on!” and there was the thump of a body next to his upon the rock. Other hands were suddenly augmenting his. Together he and Perkins pulled mightily. Slowly but inexorably they dragged Spock over the rocks, back to safety.

The three of them collapsed against the rocky surface, breathing heavily. Kirk’s hand sought Spock’s in the darkness, found it, then wrapped his fingers about the beloved flesh. He was gasping in air, staring up at a darkened ceiling of a cave, there were enemy Orions twenty feet away, but the most important thing in the universe was the reassuring warmth, the life of the fingers curling about his. He squeezed hard, then almost sobbed at the almost painful pressure Spock returned. He didn’t ever want to let go.

After a few moments his heart stopped pounding quite so heavily. Air seemed to be once again flowing steadily into his lungs. The touch of skin to skin was not enough. He longed to see Spock’s face. Kirk sat up, pulling Spock with him as he refused to unclasp their hands, looking with hungry love at the sharp features mottled with bruises and shadows from the flickering light, seeing the message of love returned from glowing eyes. To hell if anybody else saw them. He wasn’t ashamed of loving Spock.

Then the presence of a third party intruded, causing them both to turn towards Perkins, towards the strange strangled sound they had heard. The man was sitting with his head bowed between his knees, shoulders shaking. Could he be crying? Kirk and Spock exchanged concerned glances. Spock nodded mutely towards the man. Such emotional displays were clearly beyond him. This was Kirk’s to handle.

Not knowing what else to say, Kirk settled on the obvious. “Thank you,” he said with a voice that felt rusty from disuse, as if he hadn’t spoken for days. He cleared his throat. How could those words really thank the man who had saved Spock’s life, his own soul? He reached out and gently laid one hand on Perkins’ knee. What could he say to stem the tide of tears that he knew the man was hiding? “Thank you,” he said again, and wondered what price the Orions would make them pay for such courage.

The Orions, having waited for the path to collapse only to see it remain intact, were now tentatively crossing the distance between their two groups by cautiously edging along the cavern’s wall. Only the outer two feet of the pathway had fallen into the cave. As Haranash and the others came closer, the Federation prisoners stood. Haranash’s expression was truly ugly. Johnson behind him looked frightened. Like a trapped weasel, Kirk thought, then saw the drawn disruptors of the two other soldiers in the group. He tensed, and felt Spock beside him tense as well. Only Perkins, who was the focus of the fury, seemed unaffected. He stood with arms limp at his side, the shiny tracks of his tears marking his face.

Haranash gestured them all to take several steps back, until they were on a portion of the path unaffected by the slide. He was taking no chances with his own safety. The he stepped up to Perkins and backhanded him, as he had done to Kirk the day before. Perkins staggered from the force of the blow and put out one hand as he leaned against the rock wall. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“You disssobeyeddd me. I could have losssst alllll my prisonersss. Do you know what we Orions do to those who disssssobey?” .

Perkins looked beyond the fist which had a handful of his uniform shirt, looked beyond the angry face of Haranash to Kirk and Spock standing before the Orion disruptors. His eyes pleaded for understanding. “Yes, I know. But I had to do it.” He choked on the words. “I had to. If you had died, then Sergei would really be dead. All that we had, everything that was good. That would have died too. I can’t keep it alive alone. You have to do it for me.”

Haranash banged the human’s head against the rock, once. “You ssspeak inn riddlesss. Do nnnot!” Again the head thumped against the rock. “Willll you die for disssobedienccce?”

Perkins met the green glowing eyes of the Orion fiercely. “Yes, yes, I will! It doesn’t matter!” He spoke with wild abandon, almost joy.

Slowly Haranash reached for his disruptor. The hand in Perkins shirt front twisted and ground up into the man’s throat. The rounded barrel of the disruptor trailed up his chest, snagging against the material. It scraped against the side of his neck, and pushed cruelly into his cheek, and ear. Finally, it came to rest on the human’s forehead.

Perkins stood motionless and unafraid before the taunting. Haranash shifted his feet, and leaned into the human body, pressing his weight on the disruptor, forcing Perkins’ head back against the rock wall so that it was caught between the two surfaces. For a long moment the two of them locked eyes; Perkins waiting for death, Haranash preparing to deliver it.

Then, without warning, Haranash straightened and holstered his weapon. “No.” An awful caricature of a smile stretched his face. “If it doessss not matterrrrr to you, then it willlll not matterrrr to me.” He turned to Kirk. “Death,” he said apologetically, “it must be fearrrred, to havvve meaning. As a commanderrrr, you know that.”

He was gone, calling out orders to his troop to carefully cross the broken path, leaving a shaking Perkins behind. The prospect of death had not moved him; life left him leaning against the wall in defeat.

It wasn’t long before Haranash had them walking again, this time with Orions in the lead with the three Federation prisoners sandwiched between. Right after the rockslide, the path took a precipitous turn downwards and soon appeared to rejoin the original path they had been following. The pace quickened.

Spock walked behind Kirk mechanically, carefully noting landmarks in case they were able to escape, picking his deliberate way among the obstacles in the path. He wanted very much to think about Perkins’ actions but refused to allow himself to do so. The man had saved his life, and Jim’s life, but for what motive? Spock looked at Perkins now, striding at his side with a determined step, his mouth a thin line, his eyes directed relentlessly forward. He was an enigma. Spock wished very much that he would sometime soon have the opportunity to meditate over what he had seen.

In the meantime, Spock ruthlessly directed his attention to his physical environment, putting all thoughts of Perkins aside. Time enough to contemplate the metaphysical if they were ever to regain the safety of the ship.

It was only because Spock was concentrating so fiercely on the evidence of his five senses that he heard it. The smallest whisper of a voice, hissing, “Get down!” came drifting to him in echoes from ahead. Silence, followed by a sound of metal sliding over stone. The image of someone shifting their position against a rock immediately flashed to his mind. The path they were on took a sharp turn around a huge rock outcropping. The sounds were gone. But Spock was sure of what he had heard.

He looked about at the apparent unconcern of both humans and Orions. His own hearing far exceeded humans’, and he recalled that Orion hearing was not even as acute as that. Only he could have heard the sounds. Spock lengthened his stride until he was directly

on Kirk’s heels. He appeared to stumble, and placed his hands on Kirk’s back as he fell, bringing his captain down with him. Intense concentration, the projection of one image as they fell into and out of the meld in less than a second, and the deed was done. Jim was now prepared to act when rescue came.

They were on their feet again quickly. Johnson looked back at them from where he led the column with Haranash, and called, “Don’t fall again, for God’s sakes. We’re almost there.”

Haranash growled and jerked Johnson’s arm until he was facing front again. The human gave him an angry look.

Kirk and Spock were alertly scanning far into the darkness. Kirk worried about somehow telling Perkins about what was to come, and succeeded only in throwing him an intense look. Perkins nodded abruptly then turned to alertly scan ahead. All the Orions seemed to be quickening their pace, looking forward to returning to their base, but at the same time they had relaxed their vigilance somewhat, anticipating safety before it was there.

So when the ambush came, only the three Federation prisoners were prepared. As the first phaser whine burst out from behind the covering rocks, Kirk whirled and chopped at the Orion next to him. He caught the soldier before he had managed to upholster his disruptor, and completed the action for him as the stunned body slumped to the ground.

Kirk whirled, disruptor in hand, and fired pointblank into the astonished face of an Orion soldier not two feet away. Before the body crumpled, Kirk was searching for another target. There was a veritable carpet of Orion flesh lying on the rock floor. He, Spock and Perkins were left standing alone, the light from the headlamps on the ground straining upwards towards the ceiling at odd angles, the three of them poised for action, weapons in hands.

“Salazar,” Kirk called out, “I hope to hell that’s you.”

A shadow detached itself from the darkness as Salazar came quickly towards them, a genuine smile showing on the grizzled features. “You expecting somebody else, Captain?” He approached with outstretched hand and gripped Kirk’s strongly before turning to Perkins. The smile faded as he surveyed the three of them, noticing the blackened side of Kirk’s face, and Spock’s equally obvious facial bruises. “You look like you’ve been through it. You all right? Need the medic?”

“No.” Kirk was brief. “We were lucky.” No one had to mention the two who were not there. Kirk looked at the bodies being checked over by the other Marines. The small passageway was crowded with the Federation force. “Did you get them all?”

Salazar carefully stepped over one twitching Orion. “No, I think two or three in the front managed to make it through to the cavern.”

“Damn,” Kirk pounded one hand into the other, wincing just a bit. “That probably means Haranash made it through, and Johnson. Damn.”

Salazar didn’t take the time to question Kirk’s reaction. “Captain, there’s a regular factory in there, according to our readings, and more than a hundred people, both human and Orion.”

“Yes,” Kirk said grimly, “we know.” He was shrugging into a field jacket handed to him by an _Enterprise_ security man; he was peripherally aware of being grateful for its warmth in the cold cave, but his mind was racing to the confrontation ahead. “Any casualties?”

Salazar shook his head. “We haven’t lost anybody.”

“Good.” Kirk stowed a phaser in the jacket’s front pocket, squared his shoulders, and turned to face towards the Orion outpost. “Commander, I would love to know how you found us, and how you managed to materialize into apparent solid rock, but I think it will have to wait.” He nodded forward. “Let’s follow through on your surprise. Those bastards Haranash and Johnson are probably spreading the alarm right now.”

“Yes, sir, on the double!” and Salazar actually saluted. Kirk worked his way up the front of the group of soldiers, hearing several “Welcome back, Captains,” and not just from his own security forces. He watched Perkins rejoining his own comrades in silence, and was aware of Spock striding immediately behind him, busily devouring the information from a tricorder.

As if aware of the scrutiny, Spock looked up and informed, “The cavern is no more than one hundred meters ahead of us, Captain. Approximately fifty Orions, more humans, although the rock intervening makes these readings imprecise. There is a narrow passageway up ahead that leads directly to the inhabited cavern.”

Kirk’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Then a quick, frontal approach, I would say, Mr. Spock.”

Spock carefully placed the small tricorder in an inside pocket, and pulled out a phaser. “I would agree, Captain.”

“Then let’s go.” Kirk led them forward at a brisk trot that increased to a dead run once they entered the passageway.

When they emerged into the brightly fit antiseptic cave, all was chaos. It was clear the beings here had been warned of their danger. There were humans screaming, running towards large double doors at the far end of the white-washed room, and a group of Orions with rifle-like disruptors brutally pushing through the crowd towards the invading Federation force.

Movement at close range caught his attention. The ugly end of a disruptor was being aimed right at….

“Watch out!” Kirk tackled Spock around the waist, and they landed with twin “Umphs!” behind a barrel. The unmistakable whine of the ugly weapon proved that there were armed enemies near at hand.

Kirk wasted no time in popping up and looking about for the sniper, while Spock examined their surroundings. He nodded towards the production-line arrangement when Kirk turned to confer.

“A drug factory?” the captain queried.

“Undoubtedly. These barrels and boxes contain the raw material to be used in the production of TNT.” Spock eased himself up to his knees next to Kirk, then looked over the protection of their cover. “The sniper?”

“That way.”

Without other words they started to work their way towards the source of the disruptor fire, darting behind machinery, what looked like packing crates, and more barrels. Several marines and security people were following their lead, others were branching off at slight angles through the large room. When they reached the machine behind which the sniper had hidden, he was already gone. There weren’t any other beings in sight, as all those who had presumably been working here had fled before them.

Kirk and a marine who had come up next to him paused next to what looked like the blunt end of a sawed off stalagmite. So far, that lone sniper shot had been the only resistance.

“Where to, sir?” the marine asked, crouching and swiveling to survey the area before them. “Think they’ve all run away?”

“Run away?” Kirk’s eyes narrowed. “No. They’re finding the best possible cover towards the middle of the cave. Over there. That’s what I would do. Let’s go.” Then, in a louder voice that clearly carried to the others who were in his immediate vicinity, “Spread out. They’re up ahead. Heads up.”

As Kirk quickly darted past an exposing table to the cover of a wooden crate, he stumbled over something soft and yielding and fell head long onto it. It was a body, the body of a gray-garbed human male still warm from life, but unmistakably dead.

After a moment of stunned disbelief, Kirk jerked his arm back from where it lay over the massive open wound on the man’s chest. He struggled with the bile that threatened to pour into his mouth, then successfully choked it down. The jagged edges of flesh which revealed how savagely an Orion disruptor had been used were more than matched by the expression of utter hatred, backed by horror, that was frozen on the man’s face. Kirk stared back in sick fascination, and thought that he had rarely seen such loathing as was revealed by this stiffening corpse. The eyes were open and still staring with concentrated fury, the lips were drawn back in a feral grin, the lines of savagery were etched in every tense muscle and tendon.

What had this human seen, or done, to court the fury of an Orion disruptor? What had caused such hatred? Kirk sat back up and swiftly ran his gaze down the body, coming to an abrupt halt when it encountered the thick chain about one ankle. He reached down to give it a sharp tug, but it held solidly to its anchor embedded in the rock floor. Whatever this man had been doing here, it had not been done willingly.

Kirk’s speculative gaze slipped from the chain in his hands, and back up in the direction of the double doors. He remembered how all of the humans had been running in terror from the room, how they all had been clothed in some sort of grayish coverall. He’d assumed they’d been running from fear of the Federation force, or perhaps towards a weapons cache. Could he have been wrong? The humans whom they had assumed to be Johnson Combine people, working in complicity with the Orions, could they be slaves instead?

A surge of anger possessed him. No wonder all his efforts to convince Johnson to help them had failed. The man might have professed an undying support for humans as the motivation behind all his schemes, but he had long ago traded his misguided standards for personal gain and glory. If Johnson had countenanced this…. Kirk shook his head slowly. He wanted to hate Johnson, wanted to feel total disgust, but his anger was tinged with non-comprehension. How could anyone do this?

An urgent call of “Captain!” snapped his attention away from the sickening scene. One of the _Enterprise_ security team and Spock were crouched over another body not far away.

“I know,” Kirk said grimly when he came up to them. “I just found another one. It’s hard to believe….” He deliberately leached the emotion out of his voice, and asked his first officer, “What’s your analysis?”

“The evidence is clear.” Spook’s hand went down to jerk against the chain that bound the disfigured body to a work bench. He had obviously come to the same conclusions as his captain. “These people were being used as slave labor. Humans who had been difficult workers were chained to their stations. When our approach became known…. The guards undoubtedly had standing orders to eliminate them in case of trouble.” His lips tightened and he released his hold on the chain. “Mr. Johnson was not entirely honest with us, Captain. From the extent of already healed wounds on this body, I would estimate that this man served here for some time. Much longer than the six weeks since Johnson has visited this facility.”

“Yes. Slaves. Johnson had to know that these people were being used this way. I wonder if….”

But the distinctive whine of a disruptor interrupted his speculation. The security man shouted, “Look out!” and they all dove for more substantial cover. Suddenly, the Orions were everywhere.

“Cover me!” Kirk shouted, and rolled across an aisle to crouch behind a metal box. Spock popped over a stalagmite to loose several phaser bolts towards a concentration of Orions, then Kirk came to his feet and charged forward.

“Jim!” Spock shouted, and followed his captain into the fray.

They fought the rest of the way forward like that, returning fire as they could, providing cover for the group with them as they took turns moving ahead. They heard the evidence of other fights all around them: the ugly sounds of phasers being fired, occasional shouts, and once a long-drawn out scream.

Kirk looked around what seemed to be a vat of chemicals, and saw an Orion looking through his sights in another direction. He fired, and had the satisfaction of seeing the body freeze in the beam and then slump to the floor. He ran forward to deactivate the disruptor, and slid into Salazar intent on the same action.

Kirk efficiently reached for the weapon, Salazar bobbed up to provide cover.

“They’re moving towards the far end of the cavern,” the marine said breathlessly, and he fired in that direction.

“I know. Towards the double doors there.” Kirk jerked at a recalcitrant cartridge. “Notice any humans opposing us?”

“Nope. A couple dead men. One woman. All chained….”

“Slaves,” Kirk interrupted him. “Any casualties of our own yet?”

“Yeah.” Salazar was talking over his shoulder, keeping his eyes forward. “Those damned greenies are using their disruptors on almost maximum. Even a little hit is bad, real bad.”

“Right. Be careful.” Kirk threw the now-deactivated disruptor towards the vat, and moved forwards again.

He saw the evidence of Salazar’s warning too soon. A female marine who had been moving forward with the group around him and Spock gave a loud cry and fell onto her back just as Kirk came up behind her. He knelt beside her and placed a supporting hand on her shoulder as he shot in the general direction of her attacker, but knew he had missed.

The marine was writhing slowly against the smoothed out stone floor, gasping wildly and plucking at the stomach wound already stained bright red. Kirk winced, knowing there was nothing he could possibly do, knowing she must be in agony.

“Shoot….” she panted, her lips pulled back into a grimace. “Your….” The next word was lost as she pulled up her legs in pain.

Kirk stared down at her, knowing he had just seconds before he had to move on, wondering what it was she expected him to do. But then a marine lieutenant slid in next to Kirk, took in the situation at a glance, and calmly shot the woman with his own phaser.

“At least she’s unconscious now, sir,” he told an incredulous captain. “It’s our way. We take care of our own.”

Kirk’s total disbelief faded with the words. It was an act of compassion, one he would never have dared himself because of possible complications from the stun. But the excruciating pain was eliminated. The marines apparently acted from their own set of rules.

Another disruptor bolt scored the metal casing of the machine just to Kirk’s right, and he got off a shot before rolling away to find other cover. That one had been close, but it had clearly revealed the sniper’s location. Within thirty seconds the Orion lay stunned and twitching on the floor, and an _Enterprise_ security woman with white antenna went looking for other prey.

They pressed relentlessly forward, managing to pinpoint the Orions one by one, taking casualties of their own until they did. The Orions were falling back towards the double doors that presumably led to living quarters and storerooms. Possibly to a hanger with a ship, and escape.

“Cut off their retreat!” Kirk shouted, and hoped he’d been heard above the din of battle by the other groups of men and women fighting in the cavern. “They’ll try to use the humans as hostages!”

Before the Federation forces could try to encircle the remaining Orions, there was movement from behind the double doors. Kirk saw them being cautiously eased forward. He braced for a reinforcing assault of more Orions. But it was a human face that he saw cautiously surveying the cavern, and a human hand that held a disruptor, none too steadily. The woman must have spotted an Orion within range, for a look of pure joy crossed her face as she leveled the weapon, aimed carefully by squinting one eye, and fired.

“Ayyyahhh!!” An unholy scream issued from her triumphant, contorted mouth. She darted forward into the cavern.

She was followed by another, and yet another human into the cave, all of them armed with disruptors they began to wield with glee. Soon the Orions were caught by the force of Federation soldiers before them and their former slaves behind. And while the marines and security people from the _Enterprise_ wanted prisoners, the grey-garbed humans wanted only vengeance. The air was filled with the victory cries that first woman had started as one Orion after another fell into death. The humans seemed to revel in the blood that they poured out onto the rock floor, and succumbed to a savage frenzy that was frightening in its intensity.

Many of them were not content with an enemy’s fall, but used the butt ends of their disruptors to batter and mash at the hated faces, used their feet to stomp on nerveless fingers and toes. Their mindless intensity began to frighten Kirk as the attack of the Orions never could. As he stunned as many of the Orions as he could before the slaves could assault them, Kirk wondered what the slave masters could have done to incur such savage fury.

The Orions did not scream, most were not given the opportunity, but Kirk saw one red-tattooed officer stand and turn his own weapon on his own body. Kirk quickly raised his phaser in an attempt to stun the alien before he could pull the trigger, but he was too late. The officer stiffened, and fell with a graceless thump to the floor.

That must have been the last Orion, for an eerie silence descended over the immense room. The cries of victory faded away and the murderous fury abated. Men and women slowly rose from behind machines, overturned tables, boxes and barrels, not believing it was over. They came forward to survey the twitching bodies.

A woman began to scream hysterically, falling to her knees next to one badly mangled form, and beating her hands against the dirt floor. Her crying turned to laughter, and Kirk felt a chill go down his back, as he realized her hysteria was a form of victory dance.

He reached another unconscious Orion just as a man was lowering his boot onto the alien’s face. “No,” Kirk said urgently, grabbing the man’s arm, “No, you don’t have to do that. You’re free now. Free.” The man twisted in his grasp, not wanting to hear, meeting Kirk’s eyes wildly. Kirk let him go, and motioned towards a marine to follow him.

But not all of the former slaves were so traumatized. Most began to greet their liberators with enthusiasm that belied their former cruelty, and were soon joined by more of the humans who came pouring out into the cavern. All of them were anxious to confirm the defeat of their captors. The scene threatened to turn into one as chaotic as the battle had been.

Kirk turned to find Spock moving towards him, and felt a wave of relief wash over him to see his friend unharmed. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel anxiety during the battle, had watched the tide of action separate them without blinking an eye. But now that the urgency and danger were over, he realized how, subliminally, he had been looking for the lean form all along.

They spoke, of course, of the urgent matter at hand. “We’ve got to calm them down,” Kirk said. He motioned for Salazar, who was conferring with the marine doctor, to join them. “If there are any Orions left, they could take target practice here.”

“Or escape,” Spock said quickly. “There are many wounded in the cavern who must be found and helped, and protected if need be.”

The Federation forces began to organize the scene. The exuberant group of humans were firmly directed to gather in one corner of the cavern. The newly-freed slaves did not take kindly to the instructions, and they began to mutter darkly. There was a great deal of tension in the air, and some of their movements became jerky and hurried. One man came up and shouted at a Security guard, demanding to be let back to the living quarters. Another broke from the group and started to walk deliberately in that direction. A marine tried to urge him back.

Help came from an unexpected quarter. The woman who had led the charge into the cavern stepped forward. Kirk looked at her askance, but she seemed rational enough now.

She waved to get the attention of at least a few, and spoke loudly enough to be heard by all them. “Everyone, this isn’t helping anybody, ourselves included. Let’s try to cooperate with these people. Some of them have died to come here and set us free. And I’m sure this is a temporary measure.” She turned to look tentatively towards the Federation force, glancing from face to face in search of a leader.

Kirk took a step forward and nodded. “Yes,” he said loudly. “Just until we can be sure the Orions are all found, and so we can locate and care for our wounded. All the wounded,” he emphasized, wanting to make clear his intention of caring for the Orions, too. “The _Enterprise_ will be here soon, and you’ll all be transported to the ship as soon as possible.”

The crowd had quieted during these two little speeches, and now some of the men in the front sat on the cold floor. Little by little, others followed, until just about all the former slaves were seated. The woman turned to Kirk.

“We’ll just stay here until you give the all clear.” She grimaced. “We’ve followed orders for too long, but I guess a few more won’t kill us.”

“How long were you…enslaved here?” he asked.

She looked at him with steady eyes. “Me? Four months. Some of the others, longer. Some of the Johnson people, just a few weeks. And they complain the loudest, the bastards.” Her chin came up. “My husband and I were taking a vacation to Rigel. The Orions attacked the cruiser we were on. But the Johnson people, they started this!” Her eyes flashed. “Most of them are still sniveling back in the living quarters. The rest of us….” She turned to look over the vastness of the cavern, and a sudden slump was in the shoulders that not even the bulky coveralls could hide. “My husband’s out there.” She gestured with one hand. “Never could keep his temper. I wish he had.” Without looking again at Kirk, she sat back down on the floor next to the other former slaves, and bowed her head. A man sitting next to her put one arm around her shoulder.

With the threat of the small rebellion curtailed, Kirk turned to other matters. He sent Spock with ten soldiers to look for and disarm any escape ship there may be. Several soldiers were already locating the dead and wounded and bringing them to the small cleared area where the marine doctor was working over some motionless forms, while the rest were scouring the area for hidden Orions. He sent four soldiers to the surface to contact the _Enterprise_ , directing them to use the shorter air passage that Salazar and his group had found.

Before Kirk had the opportunity to follow Spock in search of a ship, the Orions were being herded into a holding area. Most of them were still unconscious, and were being dragged unceremoniously over the rough floor. A few were walking a bit unsteadily before the threat of a phaser. All of them passed before the furious gaze of the humans seated on the floor. The first few Orions brought most of them to their knees, staring in concerted hatred. The first that were walking caught some verbal taunts, and promises of revenge. There was an angry feeling to the air, and Kirk delayed his decision to explore the rest of the facility to deal with the humans instead. Soon the entire group were on their feet again, and their catcalls and sarcasm had turned into screams, and raised arms. Kirk could understand the hatred that the humans felt. He couldn’t imagine himself in their situation and not being consumed with hate.

Almost all of the former slaves showed some evidence of abuse. Many of the coveralls carried old blood stains, many of the people walked with a limp, he had seen a man with only one eye. But even if the Orions had been cruel barbarians, they were now prisoners. And he could not allow the former captives to run riot with their own hatred. Once they had been returned to civilization, even they would not condone such actions. At least, he hoped they wouldn’t.

Kirk was forced to call to some more marines to augment the soldiers standing before the humans. It took more than a few minutes to calm them down, but eventually they subsided. Kirk looked significantly towards the lieutenant commanding the detail and received a firm nod in return. They would keep the peace.

Kirk walked over to the Orions. Most of them were conscious now, sitting as directed by the soldiers guarding them with alert eyes. As he drew closer, Kirk noticed several of them looking about them fearfully, as if expecting attack from any quarter momentarily, and he was puzzled. Others were sitting stoically, their faces devoid of the fear that encompassed their comrades. Then his sight focused in on one of the stoic faces he was surveying. Haranash.

The alien rose when Kirk came to stand before him. The two looked at one another in silence.

Haranash was the first to speak. “You ssshould havvve allowed usss to die in battle.”

“You know that is not our way.” Suddenly Kirk felt unutterably weary. Was it possible for intelligent life forms, humanoids, to be so different?

“It isss oursss. You ssspared our livesss, and believvve you have won. You believvve you have ssshamed usss.”

“No.” How to explain? No words would be believed, accepted. But Kirk had spent too much of his life trying to build bridges to not attempt one now. “We did not spare you to shame you. Life, Haranash, we value life. Anybody’s life. Even yours. That’s one of the differences between our peoples.”

The green eyes seemed to glow for a moment. “Ali, but we too value life, Kirk,” Haranash replied. “Just in different waysss. We are not ssshamed.” The alien slowly returned to his cross-legged posture on the floor, refusing to look at Kirk again.

Kirk stared at him for a moment, puzzled and frustrated by the alien’s words, more bothered than he wanted to be by the creature’s arrogance. He hated feeling that Haranash still thought the Orion had some power. He tried to shake the feeling, but now there was a hollow in the pit of his stomach, and a gnawing feeling of impending doom. He stared hard at the Orion’s profile, trying to decipher what the being could possibly have meant, then shrugged. Probably Haranash was just trying to salvage a little dignity from his defeat by speaking enigmatically. Kirk turned back to finally go through those tantalizing double doors.

Another duty intervened first, and he detoured by the medical area, speaking briefly with the doctor and the two soldiers helping him. He walked down the line of wounded, and spoke of the _Enterprise_ arriving soon. More than half of the men and women there, though, could not hear his words, as they were unconscious through shock, the pain of their disruptor wounds, or pain-killing medication. Kirk stopped before the woman the marine lieutenant had stunned. She lay as pale as death, only the occasional shallow breath indicating her life still held. She seemed to be the most seriously wounded of them all.

He bent down and gave the unaware soldier’s hand a little pat, knowing that it was a gesture he would not have made if the soldier had been male, wondering why it made a difference, remembering for a moment his stay in Janice’s body. He tried to brush the thought away; his mind seemed to be curiously dislocated, groping for something and not knowing what it was. The little conversation with Haranash still bothered him.

He straightened, determined this time to overcome his uneasiness, and finally make it through those doors. The sight of another body, an ominously familiar body stopped him in his tracks. Good God, it couldn’t be. Tell me it’s not….

At the end of the medical line of casualties, where the dead were being carefully laid, was the peaceful-looking form of Lieutenant Perkins. Someone had arranged his hands respectfully over his chest, almost managing to mask the disruptor wound there. Kirk walked over, feeling the fingers of sorrow tear at his heart. After all that they had been through…. He remembered a wink across a hated Orion pack, how Perkins’ strong arms had helped him pull Spock to safety, he remembered that awful moment when they had all thought Haranash was going to kill him. For Perkins to die after all…. Futility kicked him in the gut.

Kirk squatted next to the body, laying one hand gently on the still cooling arm. He examined the serene face.

Perkins hadn’t thought it was futile. Perkins had been willing to die for Spock and for him, had seemed to welcome the death that Haranash was offering. Records would show that Lieutenant Perkins and Lieutenant Veronkon had lost their lives one day apart, on the same planet, on the same mission. Kirk knew better. From the moment Veronkon had expired, Perkins had been lost. Maybe a little mad in his grief. Maybe he would have recovered if he’d had a little time, found a way to live again. Or maybe, Kirk reflected sadly, maybe he would have found a way to die. An accident. Or one more dangerous mission. Kirk had told Haranash that the difference between their two species was life. The way they lived it, and the way they gave it up. Would the Orion ever understand Perkins’ despair because of love lost? Could he ever comprehend why Spock and he had not fallen into the small pit? Could he ever understand the joy that was now mixed with Kirk’s sorrow?

“I understand,” Kirk whispered, stroking the material on the marine’s arm, and fighting back tears. He looked at the closed eyes as if they were open. “I wouldn’t have before, but now…I do. And…thank you. Thank you for him. For us. We’ll keep it safe. I promise you.”

He stayed by the body for a while longer, wondering how Spock would react when he heard the news, wanting very much to see his friend and lover and knowing that duty prevented it, wondering again about Haranash. The thought of the Orion brought that dull ache to his stomach again, and the despairing thought that maybe they never would be able to understand each other. Would it always be fighting, slavery, cringing Orions in the aftermath of battle….

The vision of the defeated Orions in the holding area clarified in his mind, and he straightened suddenly. Cringing? Why the hell had the Orions been cringing? The enlisted men only, he realized, without the red tattoos. Why had some of them, the officers, been sporting a stoic face, as if hiding important knowledge? Kirk looked over towards the prisoners. Haranash had said, “We arrre not ssshamed.” What was the big shame for Orions, at least for the Orions in command, the officers, and how had they managed to avoid it?

Realization shot through Kirk like an electric charge. He was off and running through the cavern shouting, “Spock! Spock!” before the sizzle had left his veins.

He cornered an astonished Salazar just emerging from the double doors. “Get Spock right away! This whole place is gonna blow, maybe in minutes. Get Spock, he speaks Orionese, I need him right now!” Salazar didn’t hesitate for questions before the urgency in the captain’s voice, but did an immediate about face and vanished again through the doors.

Pulsing with energy, Kirk strode over to where Haranash was standing and grabbed a handful of his shirt. He pulled the Orion face close to his. “Tell me how to stop the self-destruct. Tell me, now!”

Haranash smiled the fiendish smile that Kirk had come to hate. They were so close that Kirk could feel the foul breath against his lips. “Good. It isss better thattt you know. Ourrr livesss, they arrre weaponsss. Now do you underssstand usss?”

Kirk shook him once, hard, frantic, but knowing that nothing he could do would get the Orion to speak. He released him and whirled to look at the rest of the aliens, all of them gazing up at him with perplexity. Haranash made a sharp guttural growl and what sounded like a command in Orionese. Kirk knew that he had forbidden the others to speak. None of the officers would talk anyway, they were all obviously committed to a suicide course. And none of the enlisted soldiers spoke Federation Standard, Kirk knew without a doubt.

Probably, only Haranash knew enough for a real conversation. He gritted his teeth, surveying the unblinking alien eyes, and wishing fervently for a Universal Translator. Visions of a mass and hysterical evacuation swept before his eyes, the impossibility of transporting the wounded through the tunnels defeating him before they even began.

Suddenly Spock was there, an island of calm within this sea of storming emotions.

“Captain?”

The deep voice steadied him. “Remember when I was aboard the Orion ship we boarded, and you brought us all back with the transporter? It blew up, and we never knew why?”

Spock nodded quickly, understanding Kirk immediately. “You believe this facility will also self-destruct? How?”

Kirk turned towards the prisoners, frustrated, his fingers curling. He saw Haranash out of the comer of his eye, standing with arms folded across his chest, impassive. “I don’t know. Earlier, the enlisted men were frightened, the officers smug, hiding information. There must be a dead man’s switch, or something like it. Something that will blow if the right man, loyal to the new Orion regime, doesn’t deactivate it on a regular basis.”

Spock’s eyes were bright, he spoke quickly. “You are implying a military device for a political purpose. An attempt to prevent a counter coup, and keep the new government’s representative in power.”

“Right,” Kirk nodded, knowing a deep gratitude at the way Spock always followed his reasoning. “It could blow any minute, and we’ve got to find a way to deactivate it.”

“We must find this device first, Captain.”

“Ask the enlisted men, Spock. They should at least know where it is. Promise them protection from the officers. I think it would work. This suicide thing, it isn’t universal. Look at them. They’re just as afraid to die as anybody.”

Before Spock could even open his mouth to speak, Haranash had launched himself with a roar. His arms were outstretched, his mouth contorted open, his fingers curved to strike a deadly blow. Before Kirk, or any of the Federation guards could react to the murderous charge, Spock had shoved his captain to one side and reached for the Orion’s shoulder.

Orions must have had extraordinarily strong muscles, for Haranash collapsed in slow motion. His eyes bulged out, his tongue protruded, he tried to gasp out words. He slowly, slowly fell to the ground, Spock’s hand inexorably bound to his shoulder. The Vulcan’s other hand did not cushion the Orion’s fall.

Spock looked up from the limp form at his feet. “Jim, you must begin evacuation procedures. We have no way of knowing how much time we have left.”

The next few minutes passed in an uproar of confusion as word was passed. The Orion soldiers were willing enough to lead them to a mechanism set within one wall of the dead Orion commander’s office, but they had no knowledge of the combination that would deactivate the explosive charge, nor of the projected strength of the blast. They were obviously anxious to be led by their captors away from the dangerous bomb.

Left alone in the room, Spock grimly set out to open the wall panel. It revealed a maze of circuitry and electronic components that defied immediate analysis. And yet, according to his calculations, the evacuation of wounded would encompass at least the next twenty-two point five minutes. That was assuming maximum efficiency from an increasingly volatile crowd. From the level of noise that reached him in this inner office of the factory cavern, the Federation forces were having difficulty organizing an orderly retreat. It might be many more minutes before all beings were out of the cavern. Even then it was impossible to predict how far away the secure zone would begin. Safety lay only in a mechanism deactivated as quickly as possible. Surveying the circuitry tangled as only the illogical mind of an Orion engineer could make it, Spock wondered whether he would be granted the time to provide that safety.

Suddenly Jim was at his side. “How’s it look?”

Spock was already busy with his tricorder, attempting to pinpoint vital connections. He did not mince words. “Not good. Undoubtedly there are safeguards to prevent tampering. I must locate and avoid them before proceeding to the actual charge circuitry.” He spared a moment to look at Kirk, at his lover. Kirk recognized the change in the dark eyes that seemed to be devouring his form. “Jim, you must leave here now. There is nothing you can do. You will only distract me with concerns for your safety.”

Kirk swallowed hard and put one hand out to a jacketed arm. “I thought I might help you….”

Spock wanted to force his eyes back to the tricorder, but he found himself enslaved by a pair of pleading eyes. “Negative,” he said hoarsely. “Only another computer expert could be of assistance now. Please, leave me….”

Another voice rang out in the stillness that had settled between them. “I am a computer expert. I will help you.” The voice was soft, each word spoken with cultured smoothness. The form that entered the room moved with grace unsurpassed.

Kirk stared at her stupidly for a moment before finding his voice. “T’Pring.”

She nodded. “Yes, Captain. My bondmate and I were brought to this place seven days ago. Storm is injured, unable to assist. I offer my services.”

Kirk turned back to look at Spock, a million thoughts racing through his mind. Now was not the time to succumb to anger, or misplaced pride, now they had no time at all. “Can she help?”

“Yes.” Did T’Pring notice the rigid mask that had dropped over Spock’s face with her appearance? Kirk saw the man he loved disappear, and a strange, completely-controlled Vulcan take his place. Spock had imposed controls Surak would envy. He would not allow his personal reaction to T’Pring to hinder him in their attempt to save one hundred and fifty lives.

Kirk looked from T’Pring to Spock and then back again. “Then go.”

When the woman had moved to Spock’s side, Kirk still lingered at the door. The sounds of the evacuation reached him. He knew his command presence would help there. Still…Spock could easily die here, the victim of Orion mistrust. And they still had so much between them unspoken. If only T’Pring hadn’t been here, perhaps at least they could have said something to one another, a word, or maybe just a look would have been enough….

Kirk turned to go. Spock looked up at him as he handed T’Pring the tricorder. Their gazes locked for one eternal moment. And for him, for him, Spock abandoned the Vulcan and showed the lover in his eyes.

Four long strides across the room brought them together. Kirk searched Spock’s face with wonder, astonished that his reticent friend would be reaching for the meld before a quietly observing T’Pring. Trembling fingers went out to him, their heat settled on his temples, then he felt the touch of Spock’s mind.

This meld was different. Urgency prevented gentleness, or the peace they had found in the glowing world before. Images rushed at them both, longing, their bodies entwined in an embrace, acceptance and gratitude, Vulcan, Terra, a planet where they walked together in the sunlight, a planet where they were old together….

And something more. Even within the few moments they allowed themselves, Kirk sensed a qualitative difference in the meld. He cast about, inexpert still in the world of this joining, wanting to see what was there, knowing that they had no time, projecting all his love as he felt the meld disintegrating….

Then they were apart, and Kirk was turning back to duty, disappearing into the confusion of the cavern. Spock moved back to his work, ignoring the look T’Pring was giving him. Exactly twelve seconds had been lost.

Thirteen minutes later Spock extracted his communicator to give the All Clear.


	17. Chapter 17

McCoy stepped off the turbolift and paused to breathe deeply before he proceeded further onto the bridge. Not that the air was any different than it was a week ago, he told himself. He glanced to his right at the Vulcan seated at the science console. That would have been illogical, and if Spock had known what he was thinking he would undoubtedly have had to endure quite a lecture.

No, the air was just the same, but the atmosphere was sure different, and if a Vulcan couldn’t tell, he certainly could. He’d noticed it before, when the _Enterprise_ had completed a mission. That certain sense of accomplishment, the feeling of a job well-done. It was always more noticeable among the bridge crew, although this time the change had permeated the entire ship, especially among Security. The people who had been lost on the Ag Colony had been duly mourned, but the pride they had brought to the ship had not been lost. Security too often got the short end of the stick; now each mem-ber of the team seemed suffused with pride. The mission had done wonders to cement the camaraderie between human and non-human on the ship, a side effect the Johnson Combine had surely not been counting on.

McCoy meandered over to the communications station and idly stood by while Uhura completed whatever job was taking her attention. Scotty was on the bridge today, McCoy was glad to see. The engineer had been immersed for too long in trying to unravel the mysteries of that Orion ship they’d picked up; he’d been practically hibernating, spending all his time in the bowels of Engineering and the labs. McCoy hadn’t spent a pleasant dinner or late night rec room hour with the Scot in what seemed like weeks. Now, though, seeing him react with a smile to something Dawson said while passing to the turbolift, maybe now Scotty was ready to rejoin the human race.

Uhura paused with one finger on the comlink in her ear, the other poised over a button on her console, and looked up at the doctor hovering by her board. “Something I can do for you, Doctor?” she asked pleasantly. She’d always had a soft spot in her heart for the father confessor of the _Enterprise_.

“Uh, yeah, Penda,” he said, as always affected by that sincere yet sexy smile. “Got a tape here I was wondering….” He held up the cassette in his hand.

She held up one superbly manicured finger and pushed the comlink more firmly into her ear. “Just a second,” and she tended to yet another incoming transmission.

McCoy nodded unseen and folded his arms patiently to wait. The pleasantly relaxed pace that had engulfed the ship in the four hours since they had left the starbase, with the apparent exception of Uhura, suited him exactly. Seemed like everyone had been running at maximum for too long. The anxiety and danger of the patrol, the frantic examination of the Orion ship remains, the intense mental gyrations that had occupied their discoveries about the Johnson Combine, the race to pick up the Marines from Argus VII, all that had been enough excitement for any ship. But then that whole mess on the colony that had to be sorted out, all those disruptor wounds he’d had to deal with, the short and yet too-long trip to Starbase 15’s hospital facilities…. He shuddered to think of it, and was deeply grateful he’d not lost a single patient, not once they were safely in his sickbay. Now he knew they were all in the best of hands at the starbase.

His gaze wandered idly over to the center seat, which was vacant. Kirk was standing next to the helmsman’s station, engaged in conversation about a new simulator program with Sulu. It was good to see Jim on the bridge again. It was the real reason for McCoy’s visit here, to observe, and celebrate in his own way, the return to normal routine. Once McCoy had released the captain from sickbay, they’d already been in orbit around the starbase, and Kirk had disappeared into N’Kara’s clutches; the admiral had been demanding debriefings to justify his actions. Jim’d beamed back up just thirty minutes before the _Enterprise_ had warped out, and had been on the bridge ever since. Now, Jim deserved to relax into routine. All the horror the doctor had heard about down on the Ag Colony, the tangled mess only Jim had had the authority to resolve, the no-doubt pointed questions Starfleet Command had asked, none of it could have been easy. To McCoy’s discerning eyes, Jim seemed a little tired. McCoy hoped the resumption of routine would finish the healing process he’d started in sickbay. And glancing over at the science console once again, maybe Jim and Spock could get back to playing their chess games in the evenings, or whatever the hell they’d been doing before this whole mess had started. Spock always had had the ability to relax Jim, make him laugh.

McCoy grinned a little to himself, remembering Kirk’s laughter at its heartiest. That smile that seemed to light up the darkest room. Yep, there was a lot to admire in this captain of theirs. It was good to be his friend. It would be good to hear the laughter again, too. At least, Kirk was physically fit. McCoy had seen to that. The fractured jaw had required a little delicate work, but now Jim was as fit as he ever was.

Except, of course, for some still lingering strain in his arm, back and shoulder muscles. Spock had had the same problem. A few more days, though, and they should both be back to one hundred percent. McCoy shook his head fondly. It hadn’t taken much for him to read between the lines of the dryly-factual reports they had filed. McCoy carried in his mind a vivid picture of the way it must have been. Jim had held on to the impossibly heavy Vulcan for an incredibly long time, to have sustained as much muscle damage as he had. And how Spock had managed, with his cracked ribs and contusions from the Orion beating, the doctor simply didn’t know. But what Jim and Spock wouldn’t go through for each other hadn’t been thought of yet. McCoy fervently besought a forgiving God not to do any more thinking along those lines. He couldn’t imagine what would have been worse, losing both of them to a fall into that damned cave, or having to pick up the pieces after Spock was gone.

Thank God it hadn’t happened, and they were all here to enjoy a boringly normal day on the bridge. Sickbay had been so quiet since dropping all the wounded off at the starbase, McCoy’d even taken the time to drop a line to his daughter while they were still in easy transmission range. From the pile of cassettes lined up on Uhura’s console ready to be transmitted, other folks had had the same idea.

Idly he scanned the identifying labels on the tapes, and one distinctively bold printing caught his eye. Jim’s. McCoy would know it anywhere. He craned his neck a little. To…Starbase 11? To…Sandra? Eyes widening, he reached out for the tape, only to catch a disapproving glance.

“Uh, oh, Penda,” he sputtered, “uh, I see the captain has caught up on some of his letter writing.” 

When found out, tell the truth, most people wouldn’t believe it. That’s what McCoy’s grandpappy always used to say. It worked now. Uhura narrowed her eyes, said, “Uh-huh,” and held out her hand for his own tape. He dropped it neatly into her palm, smiled his thanks, and made his way slowly over to his unofficial station near the center seat.

His mind was racing. This threw all his calculations off by a mile. McCoy remembered that Kirk had denied any involvement with the sultry woman from _The Dragon_ on Starbase 11, but that must have been just a cover-up. Why else would Jim be writing to such a woman unless he were in love with her? McCoy had seen Jim escorting a lot of exotic, paid-for companions in his day, some of them galactic knock-outs, but never had he ever been known to correspond with one. This must be a lot more serious than McCoy had imagined.

It threw all McCoy’s suppositions about Jim and Spock out the window. Ever since that strange conversation with Jim in the shuttlecraft bay, McCoy had been contemplating his two senior officers. Together. He had begun to wonder if…. Now McCoy acknowledged that he must have been way off base. Jim would never be courting this woman Sandra and be involved with Spock at the same time. It just wasn’t in Jim’s nature to be so dishonest. No way.

McCoy moved down the step to stand next to the captain’s chair, folded his arms, and sighed. He felt a little disappointed. He looked speculatively over at the blue-clad Vulcan back, then at his captain, now at Chekov’s signing a report for one of the ubiquitous yeomen. Nah. It had been a crazy thought anyway.

Lost in reflection, McCoy was startled when Kirk addressed him. “What?” he asked inanely.

“I said,” Kirk repeated patiently, “do you want me to come to sickbay for another ultrasound treatment, or are you through with me?”

“Oh,” McCoy responded, gathering his scattered wits as quickly as he could. “Oh, no, I think you’ll be fine if you just stay away from the gym for another two or three days. And,” he looked meaningfully over at the science station, “if you stay away from falling Vulcans.”

Kirk grinned and raised his voice just a bit so it could obviously be heard. “No, Bones,” he said easily, “I intend to make sure I’m always around falling Vulcans.”

Spock swiveled his chair to face the center well. “You can be certain, Doctor, that the captain’s vigilance is appreciated. The chances of surviving a twenty-five meter fall under such conditions were not great. I was most fortunate.”

Kirk smiled again and turned to sit in his chair. McCoy was warmed to see the obvious affection between the two of them. Even if they weren’t…intimately engaged, they were still such good friends. McCoy surveyed the entire bridge crew. There was friendship, and deep respect among them all. Perhaps it was the unusual feeling between the human and the Vulcan that set the tone for the rest of the _Enterprise_ staff. The doctor was convinced that they were the happiest, best adjusted ship in the fleet, and he wouldn’t have missed this time on the bridge to experience its special ambience for anything. At that moment, life aboard the _Enterprise_ felt very, very good.

“So,” he said, bouncing forward just a bit on his toes to show his pleasure, “happy to have the ship back all to yourself?”

Kirk gave him a swift smile. “Yeah.” The ship had been crawling with marines, the freed humans, and Orions. “But the marines were great, weren’t they? A special group of people. Commander Salazar is a good man.”

McCoy nodded. Salazar had come to sickbay often to visit his own wounded, and had spent many hours talking with the recuperating captain. And with Spock, too, McCoy had noticed, before he had been discharged to take command.

McCoy wondered for a moment where fate and Starfleet Command would send Salazar and his group next, then decided not to bring up that particular subject. No sense in emphasizing the constant danger they were in. McCoy knew that the captain had mourned the deaths that had occurred on the colony even more intensely than usual, and though the doctor didn’t know why, he wasn’t about to pour salt in the wound. Better to find something else to talk about.

“Uh…so just what has Starfleet Command decided to do with the Johnson Combine’?”

“It is not for Starfleet to say, Doctor.” Spock rose and came over to join them. “Various members of the Johnson family and other individuals are guilty of crimes against the Federation, and will doubtless be prosecuted vigorously. The attendant publicity alone will be severe punishment. Stockholders are not likely to be pleased.”

“What about Wade Johnson?” McCoy asked a little hesitantly. He had gotten the impression that, of all the prisoners Kirk had seen off the ship, he had been happiest to be rid of the pasty-faced Johnson.

The captain slowly shook his head. “I don’t know, Bones. It’s pretty clear that he was the instigator of the whole plot. Except for getting that force field inhibitor planted on the _Enterprise_. That was Marla Johnson’s idea, when she panicked.”

“Aye,” said Scotty, who had come over to join the conversation as well. “She must hae thought fer sure we were on to them, but it was the inhibitor that really did it.”

But Kirk was still thinking about the other Johnson. He looked pensive. “I tried so hard, on the Colony, to get through to Wade Johnson. But I could never reach him. And when we realized all those people were slaves….”

Spock shifted and ended up several inches closer to the command chair. “Indeed. It is difficult to understand his motivations except from a warped perspective.”

“Yet, I have to admire some of what he accomplished.” Kirk was looking up at his second in command. “He concocted quite a plot, spanning Federation and Orion space. Managed to actually work with the Orions, when we’ve never been able to deal with them. There was…real talent there, maybe even genius. It’s hard to understand how it all went wrong.”

The four of them contemplated Wade Johnson in silence for a moment, until they were joined by Uhura, who had been listening to their conversation. Now she rose, and came over to stand by the railing. “It’s obvious none of you gentlemen has heard the news.”

“What news?” McCoy asked.

“About Wade Johnson. That reporter, Randolph, of the Galactic News came over the vid broadcast with it right before we broke orbit, while I was monitoring. Johnson is dead.”

“What?” Scotty and McCoy exclaimed simultaneously.

Uhura nodded. “It’s true. The marines were transferring him over to the Starbase authorities,” she continued. “He apparently went over the edge, just went berserk. During the fight he grabbed a phaser from one of the guards,” Uhura’s soft voice sounded odd relating the tragic tale of violence, “and turned it on himself.”

“Oh, God,” McCoy muttered, and ran a hand over his chin. “Haven’t we had enough of that?”

Spock sounded thoughtful. “Indeed. It has been quite incongruous from the beginning of our involvement with this problem that the Johnsons, who are so determinedly pro-human, should choose to promote the human race by allying themselves with the Orions. And now it is especially ironic that Wade Johnson should choose to end his life by copying the examples of his erstwhile, non-human allies.”

Kirk was tapping his teeth with one fingernail. His hand lowered and he shook his head. “It’s hard for me to feel sorry, I hated what he did on the colony so much. I never understood him. I guess he just couldn’t live with the failure of his great plan.”

Uhura interjected, “It really does look like it is all over. Randolph reported that Douglas Johnson, the one who was running for a seat on the Federation Council, has withdrawn. For ‘personal’ reasons.”

Kirk pondered that information. “I wouldn’t be surprised if ‘personal’ included some heavy leaning by the Council.”

 

McCoy tried to look at the news positively. “So, I guess this is it. The end of the Johnson Combine problem, without a politician to lead them, and a fanatic to rally all the haters around.”

Spock, as always, was committed to a complete analysis. “Doctor, problems are seldom as neatly solved in reality as they are in fiction. While this news concerning Douglas Johnson is welcome, it would be well for us to remember that the Orions will continue to be a threat for some time to come. The problem that originated with an ethnocentric attitude in a corporation lives on in their allies. They now have vital equipment and an established network of contacts for distribution of addictive material. I will not be surprised if the _Enterprise_ is assigned again for patrol duty in the Orion sector.”

Kirk nodded. “I think you’re right, Spock, but for now Starfleet Command agrees that we deserve a break.”

“Shore leave?” McCoy said hopefully.

“Maybe sometime soon.” Kirk immediately depressed his hopes. “But in the meantime, a nice soft run out by the Niobe nebula. A couple of planetary surveys, a few checks on some small established colonies, everything routine and calm.” A small smile. “I hope.”

Spock had turned to look straight at the viewscreen. There now appeared to be an unspoken agreement to move beyond the Johnson Combine. “Our next destination, Garus Omega II, is a most promising planet for the T’Nak’Kalan Tellarite Consortium. We must confirm its suitability for mining operations and limited colonization.”

“Oh, great,” McCoy growled. “Just what we need. Mud on our boots and dust up our noses. A Tellarite heaven, I presume.”

Scotty snorted with laughter, but Spock responded, “Think what you will, Doctor, such differences of opinion have produced a diversity in the Federation which works well. It is a situation….”

“I know all about IDIC, Spock,” McCoy interrupted. “You don’t have to lecture me. But you can keep your planetary survey to yourself. I’ll find plenty in sickbay and the labs to keep me busy, thank you, sir.”

“Doctor, if you were not frequently so insistent on accompanying landing parties, you would not have cause to complain about planetary conditions. You….”

McCoy was looking indignant, feigning it just a little. If Spock wanted to get involved in one of their famous bridge conversations, well, McCoy would be more than happy to oblige. They needed the diversion, to get everybody back to normal. “And who, may I ask, would patch you up when you stub your toe on these landing parties if I weren’t along? Do you think I go along for my health?” McCoy jabbed a finger in the air towards his opponent. “No, I go along for yours.”

Spock was looking skeptical. “While I am aware that you require the opportunity to become more familiar with my hybrid physiology, I do not believe my duties as first officer include being used as an experimental subject.”

Kirk was hiding his smile behind one hand, but he emerged long enough to prompt, “Guinea pig, Spock, you mean guinea pig.”

The first officer favored his captain with a raised eyebrow. “Sir, if I had intended to compare myself with a small, obese rodent, I would have done so. I did not.” Spock looked haughty and took himself off to his own station, but not before a grinning McCoy had seen a certain glint in his eye. Kirk and Scotty were trying rather unsuccessfully not to laugh, and Sulu and Uhura had traded grins over everyone’s bead. For a Vulcan who purported not to comprehend human psychology, Spock managed to “accidentally” produce the best possible results time and again.

McCoy shook his head. Seemed like a good time for a parting shot. “Well, if laughing is all you do on the bridge these days, no wonder Starfleet’s given us a milk run.” He moved towards the turbolift and prepared to deliver. He’d developed this to an art form. The doors opened and he stepped inside. “I better go back to my lab and do some research on laughing hyenas.” The doors closed to more chuckles, and he smugly thought that not only Vulcans knew how to distract captains.

 

*****

 

The door swished shut behind them. Kirk moved to the center of his office area. He turned to survey Spock, who had remained by the door. “It’s been quite a while since we’ve been in this room together.”

Spock clasped his hands behind his back and straightened. “Indeed. However, memories of this location have remained vivid.”

Kirk raised an inquiring eye, feigning innocence. “Oh, really? So, what do you remember?” He could not suppress a teasing glint.

Spock took two steps forward, deliberately. “If I were to tell you in detail, would you be able to review the transmissions from the starbase tonight?”

Kirk laughed. “Are you questioning my ability to resist you, First Officer?”

Spock nodded. “Yes. Based, of course, on previous empirical evidence, personally gathered and correlated.”

Kirk crossed the five feet that separated them and pulled Spock to him in a hug. He felt the long fingers go up to entwine in his hair and laughed again into the shoulder against his mouth. He pulled back to ask, “Why do you like to do that?”

Spock actually shrugged. “I do not know.” He carefully examined his hand intermixed with the golden strands with the air of a scientist. “Perhaps because it is so different from Vulcan hair. Perhaps simply because it is yours.” His eyes dropped to connect with the laughing human ones. “Does it matter?”

Kirk subsided against the shoulder again, his arms around Spock’s waist tightened. “No, it doesn’t. I…kinda like it. Nobody else has ever paid any attention to my hair.”

Spock’s hand dropped to Kirk’s back and began to rub large circles against it. They were silent for a moment, Kirk closing his eyes to enjoy the affectionate attention he was receiving. Then the hand stopped its movement, and Spock reached around to caress his cheek. They drew back to look at each other.

Spock’s voice was a little hoarse. “I wish…to pay you a great deal of attention…tonight.”

Kirk caught the caressing hand, and pressed a kiss into its palm. “Yes,” he whispered, and still holding Spock’s hand, leaned in to gently place his lips against his lover’s.

The kiss was soft, reaffirming, lingering. When they pulled apart to look at each other with glowing eyes, Kirk’s voice was husky, his eyes searching Spock’s face. “How did I ever not know? How did I keep all this love inside of me for so long?”

A part of Spock automatically formulated a logical answer. It spoke of time, friendship, sexuality. The rest of Spock buried the logic deep and raised a finger to trace his lover’s lips. “Does it matter?” he asked again. “When we can rejoice in what we share now?”

Their lips joined again, another soft, gentle, closed-mouth kiss that spoke of longings, and belonging. They shifted against each other, bringing their whole bodies to press against the other’s warmth. The kiss threatened to turn passionate. Kirk broke away with a gasp and half turned away.

“You were right. If we go on like this I’ll never get those transmissions reviewed.” His heart was pounding. He took a moment to draw in a deep breath. He looked at Spock with wonder, but deliberately tried to keep his voice sounding ordinary. “Do you know, Mister Spock, that no one has ever made me feel the way you do?” He walked over to his desk and punched in the code for messages on his computer before Spock had a chance to reply. 

Kirk felt a presence at his side that he studiously ignored in favor of the glowing words on the screen. A hand moved against his arm, and he quickly sat in the desk chair to avoid it. A soft voice whispered, “I will be back.”

The messages from the starbase were routine but still required his full attention. He examined the cargo manifest and called up Fraser’s report on how the large machinery they were transporting to one of the colonies had been stowed. It had overflowed the cargo hold, and some was being stored by the back wall of the shuttlebay hanger. Kirk frowned at the screen, not liking the disposition, but not seeing a way around it. Damn, he hated it when Starfleet used the _Enterprise_ like a freighter.

Fraser had made a special request that his people be permitted to tear down and re-assemble one of the huge tractors. Kirk wondered how significantly this project would affect the bay functioning and decided to consult with his first officer.

When Kirk wandered through their joint bathroom, Spock was just finishing with his shower. Kirk handed him a towel, being careful to keep his distance, but he could not resist watching with appreciation while the lean body was efficiently wiped dry. When the dark head disappeared beneath some vigorous rubbing, he leaned back against the wall and smiled.

“You know, Spock, I could….”

Spook’s face reappeared from the folds of the towel. “I beg your pardon? I could not hear you.”

“Well, that’s a first. I said, I could really get used to this.”

Spock did not pretend to misunderstand. His face softened. “I also find our contact to be most…pleasurable.”

They stood staring at one another for a moment, the captain in his uniform leaning against the wall, the Vulcan nude holding the towel loosely before him. Then Kirk straightened and cleared his throat. “Uh, when you’re finished, I’d like to ask you about this request of Fraser’s.”

Returning to his desk, Kirk was soon lost in the quartermaster’s report. With so many non-human crewmembers now aboard, it was more detailed than usual, and Lieutenant LaCoeur had several recommendations for reprovisioning at their next stop. Kirk was trying to figure out what the Taureans would do with two liters of salt water when his attention was diverted by a steaming cup of coffee being placed on the surface of his desk.

“Thanks,” he said, and watched Spock settle into the other chair. “You didn’t have to do that.”

A slight smile etched the stem face. “As I have frequently said, it is a first officer’s duty to see to the needs of the captain.” His head tilted. “The beverage is not decaffeinated. I do not wish you to fall asleep too soon.”

The coffee cup was returned to the desk a bit unsteadily. “Spock,” Kirk was trying hard not to laugh, “do we get on with this,” his hand indicated the screen, “or not? God, I never knew you could be such a tease.”

An eyebrow raised to Olympian heights. “A tease? Captain, a Vulcan would never indulge in such emotional behavior.”

Kirk ignored the feeble defense. He pointed an accusing finger. “That outfit doesn’t help. You know how I feel about you being out of uniform.” It had been an intimate, late-night revelation.

Spock looked down at the perfectly ordinary jeans and white pullover shirt he had donned. “Would you prefer that I remove them?” An eyebrow quirked.

Kirk carefully placed his arms on the desk before him in a gesture of great self-control. “When was the last time you were on report, Mister?”

“Thirteen years, twenty-seven days ago.”

Kirk was instantly diverted. “Really? How did that happen?”

Spock looked greatly amused. “You can be assured, the circumstances were nothing like the present ones. I failed to secure the hatch in the audio lab during an experiment, and the applied stimuli were inadvertently broadcast throughout the deck.”

Kirk laughed. “Blasted them out of their pants, eh?”

“No, sir. I have only recently acquired that skill.”

Kirk choked and leaned back into his chair in surrender. “I give up!” He cast his eyes towards the ceiling. “What did I ever do to deserve a Vulcan with a warped sense of humor?” He returned his gaze to the perfectly straight-faced man sitting before him. “Do you think I’m just lucky?”

“I do not believe in luck. However, I do believe that Lt. Commander Fraser’s request can be accommodated only after….”

They discussed maneuvering around the cargo bay for a while. Then a call from the Astrophysics Lab came in for Spock, and he returned to his own quarters for a consultation over the paper the senior lab complement were jointly writing about the Graves Interstellar mass they had observed. Kirk turned to a perusal of a private communication from Admiral N’Kara, commenting on the inspection report he had turned in to Starfleet Command. It was pleasant to read the many commendations the admiral heaped upon the crew and the ship’s officers.

He squirmed a little in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position to accommodate his still sore shoulder muscles, then reached for the coffee cup. Spock was back now in his chair before the desk, quietly making notes by hand on a compslate. Kirk gazed at the bowed head affectionately. He felt sure that whatever task his friend was engaged in would be accomplished much more efficiently if Spock had been seated before his own computer. But that would have taken Spock away to a different room, and it was clear that both of them felt the need to be together now. Sickbay and the starbase had held them apart for days. Now Kirk knew that they would make love later in the evening, but it would be the culmination of a day already filled with many gestures of that emotion. Not least of which was the silent communion they were now sharing.

“Want to read something nice?” Spock should have the chance to enjoy the _Enterprise’s_ commendations too.

Kirk swiveled the screen so N’Kara’s letter was visible to Spock. He pulled out a compslate of his own and started making notes on what he could tell the crew about the inspection results.

“Jim, I hardly believe that the admiral intended for you to share this communication.” Spock was looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“Why? Surely he figured out that I don’t keep any ship’s business from you.”

“These words concerning me….” Spock gestured helplessly to the screen.

Kirk took the time to re-read the paragraph that Spock had indicated.

_You are fortunate to have such an outstanding first officer in Commander Spock. It is clear from your logs that he is an excellent tactician, and of course, his contributions in the scientific field are invaluable. I remember what you said about his insights complementing your own. It is obvious that the two of you enjoy a rare rapport that has contributed to the success of the _Enterprise’s_ missions. I wish that I could say the same of every command team Starfleet has. If you have any ideas on how the same chemistry can be duplicated, let me have your input on the subject. But I suppose that, like love, such an intangible simply can’t be defined, or quantified. Putting the two of you together was an experiment that most who knew about it didn’t think would work. Who would have guessed that a human and a Vulcan would turn out to be so successful?_

_Now about Lieutenant Sulu…._

Kirk looked up from the screen. “Which part embarrassed you? The one making a feeble attempt at cataloging your inestimable value to me and the ship or the reference to love?”

“Jim!” came the strangled reply. Kirk had never seen Spock blush in a way similar to humans when embarrassed, but the first officer was looking furiously at the wall, the deck, the surface of the desk…. Kirk had always thought Spock looked especially appealing when he was embarrassed.

“All right,” Kirk took pity. “I’ll be happy to pretend that you’re not my indispensable right hand if that will make you happy. Although why you should always want to downplay your many accomplishments, I don’t know. It seems illogical to me.”

Spock was recovering some of his poise with the nonsense he knew Jim was spouting just to give him time to do so. “It is not…traditional…for a Vulcan to….”

Kirk waved a forgiving hand, but with a glint in his eye that Spock failed to see. “It’s all right, Spock, you don’t have to explain it to me. That’s just the way you are. Let’s forget about it. But as for this other….” He pretended to think deeply, scratching his chin. “I don’t think I could pretend not to love you. I mean, I could try, but I’m not sure I could. Only if it would make you happy, of course. You don’t really want me to, do you?” He couldn’t withhold a broad grin.

Spock did not dignify the teasing with a direct reply. “You, James Kirk, are undignified and incorrigible.”

“Good, I’m glad you still feel the same way about me.”

This time all Spock would reply was another raised eyebrow, and Kirk returned to his work with a satisfied sigh.

The next transmission was one from the commandant of Starfleet Marines, requesting elaboration of some details from the report Kirk had already submitted. Kirk felt the soft bubble of happiness within him deflate as he faced the necessity of going over the events on the colony one more time.

Spock immediately sensed the change in Kirk’s mood. He looked up to see the captain tiredly rubbing one shoulder, a look of sadness on his face. Spock rose and went to stand behind him. He gently touched the shoulder. Kirk’s own hand dropped away.

“Are you still in pain?” Long fingers gently stroked.

“Not really, Just a little sore.” Kirk leaned back in the chair, wanting the touch.

Spock’s eyes had already rapidly scanned the readout on the screen and identified the reason for Jim’s sudden mood shift. One precise finger reached out and deactivated the machine. He was decisive. “There is no need for you to complete this task tonight. You have done enough. Why do you not go and take a shower? The heat will be beneficial for your shoulder.”

Kirk swiveled in his chair and looked fondly up at a stern Vulcan. He was perfectly willing to put the report on hold, and to relax the rest of the evening with Spock. “All right.”

When he emerged from the bathroom, wearing a towel and vigorously drying his hair with another, he was surprised to find an almost darkness, only a dim light coming from the bedroom area. His quarters were awash with shadows. “Spock?”

“I am here,” came the deep voice from, of all places, the floor. Spock was seated on the deck next to Kirk’s bed. He was surrounded by all the pillows and cushions either of their quarters possessed, cocooned within a comfortable looking nest. The floor had been covered by a thick padding of blankets.

“What’s this?” Kirk asked, dropping to his knees.

“I thought that you might wish to…cuddle, and that perhaps this area would be more comfortable than the bed.” Spock forced himself to look normal despite his discomfort with the words.

“Cuddle, huh?” Kirk slowly unwrapped the towel from around his waist and walked forward on his knees until he was next to his friend. His skin shone very white where the light reflected on it. Spock laid back against one of the piles of pillows and looked up at him expectantly, one arm outstretched. Slowly, deliberately, Kirk lowered his body to the floor, until it was pressed full length against Spock’s side and his head was against one shoulder. His hand went up to rest against the chest, and Spock’s arm tightened about his own body. “How did you know I wanted to cuddle?”

“Since you have taught me the meaning of the word, I have thought about this action a great deal. It has been strangely comforting to me.”

“And you think…that I need some comforting tonight?” Kirk’s voice sounded small against all the pillows.

Spock’s arm about him tightened more. “We both do. This is our first opportunity to truly speak with one another since our experiences on the Johnson Colony. I…wish to truly communicate with you.”

Kirk sighed. “And not just joke and tease, like we’ve been doing?”

“Although that form of communication is also quite pleasing, I find myself wishing to say more.”

Kirk raised his head to observe Spock more closely. “You find it easier to talk like this?” At Spock’s nod, he said, “I’m glad. Me too. I guess it’s something shared by all lovers. There are some things that you can say in the darkness, some things you can say when you’re physically close, that you just can’t say any other way.” He adjusted his position a little so that he was supporting his chin in his hands, up on his elbows. He reached out one hand to run a finger along a flaring eyebrow, then down the curve of a cheek and up to a pointed ear. The intimate contact felt wonderful. “What is it that you want to talk about?”

Spock settled down more firmly in his pillow, and gazed up at the ceiling. “My thoughts have frequently turned to Lieutenant Perkins.”

With the words, Kirk rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes. “Yes,” he took a long breath, “Lieutenant Veronkon and Lieutenant Perkins. Sergei and Jack. I’ve thought about them a lot too.”

Spock’s voice was hesitant in the dark. “They…loved one another.”

“Yes.”

“As we…love one another.”

Spock had never actually put it into words before. Kirk closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the sweet sound, then moved back to lay on his side next to the warm body. He searched Spock’s face in the dim light, and gently laid a hand on the cloth covered chest. “Yes, he said, very softly, “in the same way, I think.”

“They served together in a very hazardous profession. Even more hazardous than our own, I believe.” Spock’s eyes were searching his lover’s.

“Yes,” Kirk drew in a deep breath. “They really held that troop together. That much was obvious from all the reactions once we got back to the ship. For a group of people who almost expect to die in their work, those two were truly mourned.”

Spock had returned to his contemplation of the ceiling. “As I mourn them.”

“I do too.” Kirk was staring down at the floor covered with all of Spock’s blankets. “But I’m glad we met them. They put a lot of things into perspective for me.” He rolled onto his back, wriggled against the softness, then sat up. Spock looked at his profile patiently.

Kirk spoke softly into the darkness. “If it hadn’t been for Perkins, Spock, you would have fallen into the cave. I couldn’t have held on much longer.” He was amazed at the way he spoke the words so calmly, when his heart contracted at their thought.

“I am aware of that.” Unspoken, “Would you have let me go?” A question that would forever go unanswered.

Kirk went on, intent on expressing his thoughts. “I ended up living out my worst fears when you were falling off the edge of that damned path. If it hadn’t been for Perkins, we would have lost it all.” His voice trailed off.

“As Perkins had lost it all.” Spock wondered if he would have understood the emotional magnitude of what had happened to the lieutenant before his intimate relationship with Jim. He doubted it. He understood loss now because he finally had something that he wished to keep.

“You said it on the colony.” Kirk had turned his head and was looking directly at Spock now. “The experience of love was worth the price they had to pay. And though he never said it, I know Perkins thought that.” Kirk laid one hand on Spock’s bent knee, and his look became very intent. “Spock, loving each other is not always going to be easy. I think before the colony I hadn’t really faced that. Loving each other is sometimes going to be hard. We’re always going to be running up against our desire to protect each other and our duty as Starfleet officers. We’re probably going to run into some prejudice, maybe even from Starfleet Command, or our friends. We have to face the fact that some day,” he drew a deep breath, “we may lose each other.”

His grip on the knee tightened. “I’ve asked myself, what do I have to offer you against all that? All the pain and all the problems that we both know will be there. I’ve wondered what I can give you compared to what a Vulcan bondmate could give you. I don’t want to ask you to give up anything, Spock, but 1 don’t want to give up you. So tell me. Am I enough? Just me?” He leaned down over his lover’s face, fingers tracing a featherlight line down Spock’s cheek. “Tell me. I want to be. Tell me I can be enough for you.”

Spock took Kirk’s hand in his own and held his eyes captive with a steady, reassuring gaze. He seemed very sure of himself as he spoke. “I will tell you. It is what I wished to speak to you concerning Perkins. I learned something on the Colony, Jim, from the lieutenant, but at the time I did not know what. Time and meditation have revealed what I did not immediately comprehend.”

“Go on,” Kirk whispered.

“When it became clear to me that what I felt for you transcended friendship, I was forced to reevaluate the role of emotion in my life. For the first time, I acknowledged that I loved. That I loved you. Even though I was unable, until this night, to use that word.”

Kirk’s hand was stilled over the Vulcan heart. He could feel the lightest thrumming against his hand, the beat of a gentle hummingbird’s wings. “Was it very hard?” he whispered.

“No.” Spock’s voice was soft, and filled with affection. His eyes were shining as they looked at his lover. “It was not. It was…welcome.” His fingers rested lightly over Kirk’s. “It fills a space within me I had not known was there. Since we have acknowledged our love to one another, I have found many such spaces…, and all of them are filled with you.”

Kirk leaned down towards him, and their lips met in a gentle kiss, the softest touch. He drew back just a bit, and lingered to feel the touch of Spock’s breath against his face.

“Even so,” Spock continued as they parted, “I still did not understand love. I felt…feel so intensely for you, Jim.” His hand went up to touch the face so close to his. “I believed that no one could love as we loved, that the feelings and indescribable sensations we were experiencing were unique. In my naiveté and inexperience, I thought the emotion of love was ours alone. That we were alone in all the universe.”

Kirk was a bit puzzled. “The melds….” he said slowly, “they make what we share unique. It is different….”

“No, Jim,” Spock shook his head against the pillows, making a soft rustling sound. “That is what I have learned. That is what I learned from our experiences on the colony. Other beings love. Lieutenants Veronkon and Perkins loved. It is a universal constant. Even the Klingons love.”

“‘Even Vulcans love’,” Kirk slowly quoted. “Sandra said that. She said that affection between mates is one of the constants programmed into the Universal Translator. Is that true?”

“Yes, it is.” Spock drew a deep breath. “And now I am a part of the universe.” He sat up among the pillows. He held Kirk’s hands tightly between his own and looked into his eyes with a shining light. “This is what you have given me, and Lieutenant Perkins revealed when I was too blind to see. I am no longer alone. All the years that I have felt my own uniqueness, convinced that my existence was solitary. It is no longer true.” His grip tightened until it was almost painful, but Kirk would not have moved from it for anything. “First you gave me yourself, and then you gave me…a unity with other sentient creatures in the galaxy. With Perkins, and Veronkon.” He let his lover’s hand go. “What could I have with a controlled Vulcan bondmate that could compare with it, or with you? You ask if you are enough. How could you not be, when you have given me the universe?”

Kirk wanted to engulf Spock in a hug, he wanted to shout his happiness beyond the four walls, he wanted everyone to know of his expanding soul. But the moment was so delicate, the look in Spock’s eyes so wondrous…. He stilled his happiness, never knowing that it was showing through his eyes. He reached out to take Spock’s hand, again needing to touch. “With you, my love, I have everything.”

Spock’s face was luminous in the dark, crossed by light and shadow as if they were in the meld. He was turned towards Kirk, his expression filled with all the gratitude that the love-starved soul can feel when it has finally come home. Kirk’s own soul was suffused with pride. For all his days he would number the best of his accomplishments this moment in time, never to be shared with anyone else. He had given this wonder and peace to Spock. He had provided a sanctuary for a precious soul who had not known acceptance or rest before. Of all a captain’s tasks, could there ever be one more important than the one to give and receive love?

Without knowing how, they were in each other’s arms, locked in a tight embrace that spoke of their emotions as clearly as the green glowing world they sometimes inhabited. Their mouths sought each other. The tenderness of Spock’s lips beneath his made Kirk want to cry.

They toppled over onto the cushions, their passion for each other a gentle stream that washed over and warmed them. They removed Spock’s clothing together, their actions punctuated with the soft gliding of skin against skin, a trail of kisses laid down one shoulder and arm. In the cooler temperature of the cabin, Spock might have shivered from the cold, so Kirk laid his body over his lover’s.

Lips sought satin skin, pulse points shimmered beneath the soft caress of tongues. One green-tinged cheek lay against its pink counterpart, pressing and sliding against so much life, rejoicing…. A rounded ear slid down to hear the echo of Vulcan blood, knowing IDIC, glorying in differences. A cool body was pulled back up to cover the hotter one, both gasping at the sensation of genitals coming together. A large hand slid urgently down the muscled back to lay claim to the rounded buttocks, and neck muscles strained at the sensation.

Their bodies were ready to follow the path their souls had already trod. They moved against each other slowly, in perfect rhythm, until the drumbeat of blood pulsed in their ears and their ragged breathing caught in their throats. A hand went down to hold their two organs together in straining harmony. One body convulsed in ecstasy, another shuddered and sighed, and finally they laid to rest. The human and the Vulcan. Silent love within each other’s arms.

What seemed like a long time later Kirk was stretched out on his stomach next to Spock, playing with his chest hair. The strong blunt fingers spread and threaded themselves with the wiry lengths, over and over in a soft caress.

Kirk chuckled just a little. It was the first sound either of them had made since their earlier cries of passion. “I think I like your hair here as much as you like mine on my head.”

Spock opened his eyes, and tilted his head a little so he could see what he had been so enjoying feeling a moment ago. “Good.” He laid back against the pillows again.

Kirk’s hand stopped, splayed over one nipple. “You know,” he said reflectively, “I never would have believed that I could…appreciate chest hair so much. I mean…actually find it…well…a turn on.”

“We are both still dealing with the unexpectedness of our bisexuality.” Spock’s voice was understanding.

Kirk’s hand resumed its petting motion. “Yeah, I guess so. Lots of changes going on here.”

They were silent for a few moments.

“I know what you mean when you said you were finding spaces in yourself you didn’t know you had.” Kirk’s eyes sought his partner’s. “I have too. I don’t understand them all.” He stopped, looking pensive and a little troubled.

Spock put one hand on his arm. “Will you tell me?”

A soft smile. “And who else would I tell?” Kirk crossed his legs to sit Indian style, but removed his arm from the contact. “It’s all wrapped up in this…image I have of myself as the captain.” He looked apologetically at Spock. “I can’t help it, you know. It’s just the way I am.”

“I love the way you are. Please continue.”

Kirk had to smile at the so-new mix of emotion and logic. Yet Spock would always be Spock. He took a deep breath. “I guess I’m just surprised at some of the things I feel with you. Like…cuddling. I’ve always been the cuddler before. But when you hold me, it feels so good, so right. I never knew I wanted to be held by someone else. When we were in sickbay, there were a few times at night that I wanted to crawl into bed with you, just to touch. And that doesn’t seem to mesh with my self-image of the in-charge captain. Sometimes I feel like I’m betraying myself when I feel that way.” He passed a hand over his face. “Oh, God, would you listen to me? I must sound like a real horse’s ass.”

Spock caught the hand and pulled it down. “You do not sound like any part of an equine, Jim. We are both coming to terms with the changes in our lives. I believe that Doctor McCoy would say that it is not a process which can be hurried. We must take the time we need.”

Kirk looked down at the hand over his. “I know you’re right. I don’t want you to think I’m not happy with the way things are between us. I am. Very much so.” He was emphatic. “These are just new thoughts to me. They don’t feel wrong, exactly, just a little strange.”

Spock’s grip on the hand tightened. “I do not find your desire to be held, or comforted to be strange. Especially since I very much wish to provide such comfort.”

“You do, huh?” Kirk moved his other hand up one deceptively thin arm, just skimming his fingers over the skin. Spock shivered. “That’s how I feel about you, too. I want to hold you all the time. Sometimes more than others, of course.” He smiled, and ran his fingers down the arm this time. Spock’s features softened, but he did not say anything. Jim was still thinking out loud, and now toying with the hairs on his forearm.

“I’ve always thought it was important to find out the truth about things. That’s half the reason I decided on a career in Starfleet. I wanted to be an explorer, to find new truths. These spaces that I’m finding within myself, they’re all really there. They’re all truths about myself.” His eyes rose from where his fingers were busy at Spock’s wrist to lock with his lover’s. The look in his eyes was suddenly bright, challenging. Spock had seen it a hundred times before on the bridge. “A lot of people would say that the two of us are the best explorers that Starfleet has. N’Kara would. We’ll just keep exploring, together. Right?”

“Agreed,” and their hands squeezed in yet another unspoken declaration.

When Kirk moved to pull away, Spock held on and pulled him down onto the cushioned floor into a hard embrace.

“Jim?” the deep voice rumbled in his car.

Their faces were pressed close together. Kirk could not see Spock’s expression. But he could clearly hear the small catch of insecurity in the other man’s voice.

“Yes, love?”

“Since we are discussing our reactions to our new relationship, I thought I might ask….”

When Spock stopped, Kirk breathed, “What is it?” into a pointed ear. His arms tightened about the slender body in reassurance. “You know that you can ask me anything.”

“I know. Therefore such reticence on my part is quite illogical.” Still Spock did not stir from his position wrapped up in Kirk’s arms, his face now pressed against his captain’s neck. Kirk could feel the action as Spock swallowed preparatory to speaking. “Are you satisfied…with my somewhat unequal participation in the sexual act?” The words came out in a rush.

For a moment Kirk was puzzled. All he could think of was the beauty of the loving they had just shared. How could that be considered unequal? But the tenseness of the body against his told him this was an important issue to Spock. He cast about for a more obvious answer.

“Oh.” Now it became clear. “You mean….” Kirk was embarrassed, and marveled at how the reticent Vulcan had found the composure to speak of this. Doing it and talking about it were two separate things.

He cleared his throat, and drew back so they could look at one another in the dim light. “Do you mean…when we, uh, penetrate one another? Does it matter that, uh, I’ve been doing most of the, uh…. Oh hell, most of the fucking?”

Spock raised one eyebrow in a feeble attempt to alleviate some of their embarrassment. “Although I would not have expressed it in exactly that way, yes, that is what I mean.”

Kirk’s eyes lost their focus for a moment as he thought. Spock gratefully lost himself in contemplation of the much-loved face.

Kirk’s eyes sought his lover’s. “How can it matter, when we do what gives us both pleasure? You know I’ve liked it when you’ve been inside me, don’t you? I’ve liked all the things we’ve done.” He gently stroked the dark hair. “We’re just beginning, Spock. There’s been so much going on with the ship, we haven’t really had a chance to settle down with each other, do all the exploring with each other that we want to do. I don’t know if we’ve found our own rhythm yet. But we will. And whatever it is, it’ll be right for us.”

He paused for a moment, thinking, still trying to find his lover’s motive for asking this. It was true that Spock had only penetrated him a few times so far, but they had made love in many different ways…. Surely Spock already knew from his enthusiastic participation that Kirk was satisfied with their sex life. But sometimes his so-controlled friend had real trouble coming out with an emotionally based statement, and Kirk was already learning to interpret some truly subtle, roundabout comments.

He leaned forward for a fight, gentle kiss, then withdrew only inches before asking, his voice just the barest whisper, “Is this one of your spaces? That you like it? That you like me inside of you?”

Spock wanted to turn away, but forced himself to stay still within the orbit of his lover’s arms. When he answered his voice was very low. “I have puzzled over it. I had not expected to enjoy penetration. It is not an automatic sexual reaction. Yet the feeling of your body within my own….” He stopped, then tried again. “It is not that I do not enjoy other aspects of our lovemaking, or desire the active role. I do. But I have always known of my ability to enjoy those activities. This feeling has been a surprise to me. I had not thought….” He dropped his gaze, unable to explain to his lover what he did not totally understand himself.

The image Spock’s words had painted danced in Kirk’s mind, and his body stirred in response. He saw himself poised over Spock, his cock seeking entry to the temple no one else but he had the power to enter….

“Oh, Spock,” and now it was his turn to bury his face in his lover’s shoulder, hugging hard. “I love being inside of you, seeing the look you get on your face. Please don’t feel that’s something to be worried about. Don’t you know? That’s such a gift you give to me. Such a wonderful gift.”

Kirk pulled back and stared down into Spock’s face. There was still a worried, frowning look about his eyes, and Kirk touched one hand fleetingly against the warm cheek in reassurance. “I understand what you mean. I’ve felt it too.”

“You have?” Spock asked, furrowing his brow, and looking so very much like a puzzled little boy that Kirk had to smile down at him tenderly before he could answer.

“Yes, I have. In the melds. That’s exactly how I feel about your mind within mine. I can’t find words to explain it. I never thought that melding with you would become so important to me. But having you there within my mind, filling me up with all of your feelings, and the way we are together…. I don’t think I could ever give it up.”

The worried look had changed with his words into an open, trusting gaze. “Then perhaps this is a ‘problem’,” an eyebrow quirked, “that we share?”

Kirk gave a short, happy little snort of laughter. “If those are the two worst problems we ever have, we’re in for one hell of a lot of happiness.”

“Then let us court problems, and happiness.”

The brown eyes staring back at Kirk were alight with love, the lips were parted and just slightly swollen from the kisses they’d exchanged. Spock looked so appealing, desirable. Kirk knew that no one else had ever seen his friend like this, no one else had ever heard the confidences of the lonely soul. Spock must trust him so much to have told him this…. Suddenly Kirk’s heart was pounding, filled to overflowing. He had to swallow hard around the lump that obstructed his throat. Had anyone ever had such a wonderful lover?

“I love you.” He smiled through the sudden tears that he had to fight back. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Spock’s lips curved with just the suggestion of a smile. He reached up to place one open palm against Kirk’s cheek. “I find it difficult to quantify subjective emotions, sir, but if you desire, I am willing to devote a considerable portion of my free time in the future to the investigation of that question.”

“Yes,” Kirk said with a quick smile and a little catch to his voice, “Let’s do that, lover.” He turned his head to kiss the caressing palm, running his tongue down the life line and then up across the strong thumb. He looked at Spock then, seemed to consider something, came to a decision with the light of mischief in his eyes.

Kirk’s smile broadened to a grin. “I have a tremendous urge right now, Commander, to commit upon your person acts that are not specified in the Starfleet Manual.”

Spock drew back just a bit in mock puzzlement. “Captain, the Starfleet Manual is most detailed and specific. I doubt that….”

“…but I won’t,” Kirk interrupted. “At least, not right now. There’s something else I want to do first.” He sat up, gently releasing Spock’s hand with a final caress along its longest finger. “I have a gift for you.”

“A gift?”

“Uh-huh.”

Kirk stood up and walked over to the wall safe. He expertly punched in the numbers in the dim light, the numbers which he had freely given to his second in command on the very first day of his captaincy. It had been one of the first moments of trust between them.

When Kirk settled down on the blankets again, Spock rose to sit before him. He held out a white envelope. “I just got this yesterday on the base.” Spock looked at him with a question in his eyes, and Kirk urged, “Go on, open it up.”

A picture, simply framed in gold, slid out of its protective enclosure. It was of the two of them, looking at one another across a table, love shining obviously in their eyes.

It had taken only a second to pinpoint the setting. “This was taken on Starbase Eleven? At the restaurant?”

Kirk nodded. “The Grotto. Remember when the reporter Ralph Randolph came over to interview us? He took a picture first.”

Spock remembered the camera the man had carried. “Indeed. But it seems unusual that he would have kept this….”

Kirk looked a little uncomfortable. “I asked him to. That night, I called him….”

Spock was surprised. “But, that was before….”

“Yeah. Before we were lovers. But I knew then, didn’t you?” Spock nodded mutely. “So, I thought maybe it would be nice to have the picture. Even if it’s not a holo.” He looked at Spock shyly. “Do you like it?”

Brown eyes met his steadily. “T’hy’la, I like it very much. It has captured a significant moment in time. The beginning….” Spock suddenly seemed incapable of saying more.

Kirk was regarding him with a little smile. “No, I don’t think so. Not the beginning. Was it?”

Spock was holding onto the picture hard, and he consciously relaxed his grip to avoid denting the frame. How could happiness have such an effect on his control? “No. I do not believe that it was.”

“When?”

“It is impossible to say. It was such a gradual process. But by the time we returned to you at Starbase Eleven, I was sure, at least of myself.”

Kirk looked down at the picture in Spock’s hand. “By the time this was taken at The Grotto, you were sure of me, too.”

Spock could find nothing to say in response to this remark, and so he silently joined Jim’s perusal of the photograph. It was indeed a most pleasing scene. They were leaning towards one another, and their eyes were locked in a look of…mutually fascinated regard. At least those were the words that Spock used at first. With the newfound freedom within himself, though, he corrected himself. Love. They were looking at one another with love. The word did not burn as he had thought it might.

Spock shifted and looked up. “T’hy’la, thank you. This is indeed a most special gift. Although I do believe that it more properly belongs to both of us, rather than simply to me. I must confess I am somewhat at a loss as to where it should be displayed.”

“I know what you mean.” Kirk crooked his head to one side, trying to look at the picture in Spock’s hands more clearly. Spock obligingly passed it to him. “I’d thought of that, but I still couldn’t resist giving it to you. It’s a little…intimate, isn’t it? Put it in the bathroom? The closet? I know, let’s just keep it in the safe, and when we want to tell Bones, we’ll just send this to him. He’ll figure it out.”

Spock firmly removed the picture from Kirk’s hands and carefully propped it on the nightstand behind him. “Even if we do not elect to display the photograph at this time, it will always be a most treasured gift. When we decide to inform Doctor McCoy of our relationship, I intend to be present, to curb any excess emotionalism.”

“You mean to pick him up after he faints!” Kirk laughed, then quickly sobered. “I wonder if he’s going to be surprised, Spock. Sometimes Bones can be damn perceptive.”

“Indeed. I have ceased to be surprised at the occasional evidence of the good doctor’s intuition, especially where you are concerned.”

Kirk stretched out again against the blankets. “Yeah,” he said affectionately, “Bones is a good friend.” He settled more deeply into the soft cocoon, stretching and wriggling obviously for his amused audience of one. “This was really a great idea you had, Spock, let’s do it again the next time we have an evening free. Like, maybe, six months from now.” He made a face, but his heart wasn’t in it. He looked up hopefully and rotated one shoulder. “Could you be talked into a massage?”

Spock favored him with a slight smile. “I have been waiting for you to ask.”

Kirk turned over onto his stomach, and Spock moved into position behind him, straddling him at the waist. Soon Kirk had closed his eyes and was enjoying the light stroking rhythm of the warm fingers.

A few minutes passed with no other noise but the gentle sound of flesh caressing flesh. Then, Kirk turned his head to speak clearly.

“I really liked Commander Salazar.”

Spock’s voice was as quiet as Kirk’s had been. “Yes. I also appreciated his company. A fine man.”

“And a good leader. If he hadn’t come after us when he did…. I’m not sure of what Haranash had in mind for us.”

Spock continued to lightly run his fingers over the finely delineated shoulder muscles. “We must also thank the Andorian crewmembers from the _Enterprise_. It was their ability to detect our auras within the cave system that pinpointed our location, and led the commander to the air shaft into the chamber.”

Kirk stirred just a bit, pressing his body up against the hands upon his back. “A lot combined to make that mission a success. The marines, our new nonhuman crewmembers, you being able to defuse that destruct device….” He snorted. “Even T’Pring. I was so glad when she and Stonn decided to stay on the colony. I don’t think I could have stomached having them on the ship.”

Spock’s hands had stilled. He sounded surprised. “Jim, do you still harbor so much anger?”

Kirk twisted his head around so he could see his lover. “Don’t you?”

Spock sat back upon the sturdy body. Kirk tried to ignore the pleasurable sensation. Spock was clearly thinking, and he waited patiently for the answer to his question. Finally, Spock ran one hand absently down the center of the muscled back, and looked down at the man beneath. The motion sent shivers of delight through Kirk’s sensitized nerve endings. “Whatever negative emotions I may have harbored against them no longer seem important. Those emotions, which I attempted to control, have been replaced by others of infinitely more value.” He smiled down at Kirk, a gentle, genuine smile that caused a human heart to contract with love.

Kirk swallowed hard and smiled back. He thought that he would never tire of seeing such evidences of Spock’s trust. He wanted to reach out and hug his lover, but Spock was still perched atop him, his hands resuming their slow pattern upon his skin, so instead he turned back completely onto his stomach again and rested his head upon his crossed arms.

“I’m glad you’ve found your peace with them. I guess it’s a little harder for me to forgive. It’s always hard to see someone you love hurt, when you can’t do anything about it.” The words brought the unwelcome memory of how Spock had been hurt and humiliated on the Ag Colony, and his own impotence in protecting either Purn or O’Shea. He sighed, sending a ripple of movement down his back. “I sure don’t look forward to going over all of it again for the marine commandant.”

Spock easily followed the change of thought. He slid off Kirk’s back and lay down on his side next to his lover. Kirk turned his head upon his hands slightly so that he was facing the soft brown eyes from only a few inches away.

“It need not be done now, Jim.” A finger slowly traced down the side of Kirk’s face. “I believe that you are in need of a diversion.”

Kirk grinned and shifted closer to the warm body. “Oh, really? Just what exactly do you have in mind, Commander?”

“Not what you have in mind, Captain.” The Vulcan features maintained their austerity for a moment, then softened before the onslaught from hazel eyes. Spock’s voice was just a whisper. “I also…have a gift for you.”

“A gift? Spock, you don’t have to….”

“Shhh….” A long finger was applied to the soft lips. “I am compelled to do nothing. I wish to show you something for which you once expressed a desire.” His hand moved up to assume the meld position against Kirk’s face. “May I…share this with you?”

Mystified, Kirk nodded his permission.

Within seconds they were plunged into the familiar beauty of the shimmering green light of their melds. Kirk moved to complete the joining by reaching for Spock, but his lover stopped him.

“No,” Spock whispered. “Wait, and see.”

Slowly, the scene which Kirk’s mind projected changed. The green became shot with streaks of yellow, brown, then gold. The gold took hold, solidified, and began to expand. It became the dominant color in the live air around them. As it moved closer to where the two of them were anchored, Spock put out one hand to grasp his lover’s. Kirk tore his eyes away from the changing light to ask a question, but Spock just shook his head.

“Wait,” he whispered again. “Look.”

The gold had now turned yellow again, a bright pulsing yellow that seemed to hold life within its caressing light. It coalesced, drew to a center, and pulled back until the core of light and life was located high in the sky.

For now there was a sky. A brilliant sapphire sky with fluffy white clouds. There was lush green grass that spread like a carpet across the meadow in which they were suddenly standing. Tiny wildflowers decorated with splashes of pink, yellow, and red.

Kirk could hardly believe what he was seeing. He turned on one heel to take it all in. Along the edges of the meadow stately trees soared into the blue sky, then dipped to caress the ground with feathery fronds of softness. In the distance Kirk could just catch a glimpse of a sparkling stream, with more trees dancing along its length. As he completed his wondering circuit, the sweet sounds of a trilling bird began to fill the air.

Kirk’s eyes came to rest on his companion. Spock was standing, like him, naked in the middle of this beautiful sylvan scene. His friend was returning his gaze with a question in his eyes.

Kirk tried to speak, and couldn’t. He cleared his throat and said softly, “All of this looks very familiar. It looks like…my dream?”

Spock nodded, took him by the shoulders, and turned him to look over the stream. “With mountains. For one who always strives to look beyond them.” Their tops gleamed white in the sun.

Kirk swallowed hard. All of it, exactly as he had yearned for it. Spock had known….

Overcome, Kirk turned to bury his head in his lover’s shoulder. Out of all the beings in the universe, only Spock could do this for him. Only Spock, his gentle, strong, wonderful lover, could give him this gift. Loved him enough to want to. Strong arms came up to enfold him. His own arms went around to pull their bodies close into a loving embrace.

He pulled back to ask a question. “But all of this feels so real, like we’re really here. Our melds have never been like this before. Is it real?”

Spock put out one hand to caress the golden hair. “It is real, as real as any construct of the mind can make it. Our sensations and feelings are valid in this universe of the mind, and will remain so as long as I have the strength to maintain the illusion.”

Kirk’s arms around the slender waist tightened in worry. “Is this too much of a strain?” He looked around the meadow again. “It’s all so detailed, just exactly what I expected, what,” he turned back, “what I need.”

Spock gave him an indulgent smile. “Of course, Jim, it is your own fantasy, if you will, that is supplying the details. And no, it is not an excessive strain. It is what I wish to do.”

With that reassurance, all of Kirk’s natural enthusiasm came flooding back to him. The dimly lit room where their bodies lay was very far away, as were the cares and worries of his command. If Spock wanted to give him this gift, he would do his best to enjoy it. “Good. In that case,” Kirk drew out of their embrace and caught up his companion’s hand, “let’s go exploring. We’ll see what’s on the other side of the stream. I’ve always wondered.” He led the way with a mischievous grin that Spock was pleased to see.

The other side of the stream held another beautiful meadow very similar to the one they had left. With more wildflowers and more trees, a breeze that gently touched their bodies with warmth and a sun that bathed their bodies with golden light. It felt wonderful to be walking along through this beauty with no tricorders by their sides, no security people to worry about, no concerns about mining rights, or treaties, or even hostile animals. All the landing parties on all the lovely planets Kirk had ever known had been distilled into this essence. All of the wonder and the beauty with none of the danger and responsibilities of command. He would never want to stay here, but as a retreat, a salve for the tired mind….

They wandered across the meadow, hand in hand, simply enjoying the solitude and peace. Kirk saw a bird perched in one tree branch, maybe the one which had been singing earlier, and pointed it out with a laugh to his companion. “I never imagined birds here, Spock. That must be your idea, my musical friend.”

Spock just smiled. In the world of the meld, it was easy to do.

A larger stand of trees beckoned them on. The faintest of paths led through the small forest, carpeted with leaves soft on their bare feet. A butterfly flitted through the warm air to land on a decaying log which blocked their path. They cautiously moved forward to observe it, Spock bent over with all the intent curiosity of the scientist in his lab. Kirk watched him with a smile, enjoying the intellect as much as he now was able to enjoy the body. And the heart, which had declared its newfound oneness with a universe bound together in love.

The path wound about in gentle turns, and they were reluctant to abandon it. Each curve was another opportunity to simply be, to walk unencumbered by time, to be together.

The trees started to thin out, and they could see a clearing, or maybe another meadow up ahead, golden in the sunlight.

“I can’t believe this,” Kirk exclaimed, as they came out of the trees. “This…this looks just like our farm in Iowa. The back acres where Sam and I used to play.” He pointed towards a small rise. “That way’s the house.” He looked at the man beside him. “Spock, this has never been in my fantasy world, at least not that I can remember.”

Spock looked puzzled. “Neither is it a construct which I am projecting. I am at a loss to explain the appearance of this scene.”

Kirk moved on, exploring. “Look,” he sounded excited, “here’s where Sam tied me up when we were playing Indians, right against this little tree. He left me here for hours.” Spock trailed after him, listening to the reminiscences of Jim’s childhood with pleasure, still puzzling over why this particular meadow had appeared.

“And here’s where….” Kirk’s narrative stopped abruptly. They had walked together over the small rise, and were now facing Jim’s boyhood home. Kirk swallowed audibly. “And there’s…the wall where Sam and I used to watch the stars at night.”

For there it stood. The wall that had replaced the forbidding Vulcan structure in their melds, now standing perfectly intact before them.

Spock looked at Kirk in confusion and stopped him from moving forward with a hand on his arm. “Jim. I do not understand…. Are you certain that this is not part of your constructed world?”

“I’m positive. It’s never been there before.”

Spock turned to look at the scene before them with consideration. “Then there is another explanation. This is not a projection of your mind, it must be a projection of mine.” He became animated. “And I believe I know what we will find here.” He reached for Jim’s hand in excitement. “Let us go.”

In confusion, Kirk allowed himself to be led, almost dragged forward. Spock seemed possessed of a most unusual excitement. As they reached the wall, he released his hold on Kirk, and slapped the top layer of stones with the flat of his hand. Then he turned to walk briskly down its length. “Come and see,” he commanded as he looked over one shoulder. Kirk willingly followed.

Until Spock found what he had been looking for, and stopped. He turned to look at Kirk with shining, triumphant eyes. Mutely he indicated the wall.

It was a simple thing. Absolutely ordinary. A gate. Fitted snugly into the natural stone with mortar and wood, a gate was swinging half-open on its hinges. Spock reached out and, with reverence, swung it all the way open, then swung it closed until he could lock it by pulling down the wooden latch. Then he swung it open again.

Kirk looked at his lover with questioning eyes, wonder growing in his gaze as he began to comprehend the significance of such a simple thing.

“This is yours?” he asked, indicating the gate. “This is from your mind, not mine?”

Spock nodded, trembling visibly, but with such a wonderful look of happiness on his face. “It must have been within the last meld we had, on the Agricultural colony.”

Kirk drew closer, and placed his hand on Spock’s arm. He couldn’t bear to witness Spock’s wondering joy from afar. “The one that T’Pring saw.”

Spock drew in a deep breath. “Yes. I had felt that there was something different about our joining at that time. The urgency of the moment, our lack of time…. I knew that something had changed within the meld, but I did not know what.”

Kirk looked down at the wall beside them. “It’s not all torn down, like we were doing in our melds before. I worried about whether that was the right thing for us to do.”

“I also was not convinced that my final goal could be achieved in that manner.” Spock also turned to look at the wall. “Apparently, I constructed this without conscious thought, either during or before the last meld. Perhaps such integration was an act of self-preservation. I do not know.”

Kirk hitched himself up upon the stones, still keeping one arm on Spock’s. “Do you feel any different? I mean, if this gate,” he gently touched it with one foot, “lets you have access to your emotions without constraint, don’t you feel any differently?”

Spock considered, canting his head to one side in his familiar endearing manner. “It is difficult to say. Perhaps there has been a change. An…acceptance…of what is occurring between us. The realization concerning Lieutenant Perkins which I relayed to you earlier has given me a sense of…peace. And,” he walked up close to his lover, so that he was standing between Kirk’s legs as he sat upon the wall. Their arms went round one another. and their eyes locked. Kirk felt the pull of the dark brown depths, and willingly fell into their promise. “There is another difference.”

Spock’s voice was deep, so deep. Kirk could feel each word flowing through his body, striking chords where there had never been music before, catching him up in a resonance that reverberated from him to Spock, from Spock to him…. And overlaying the song, a sense of expectation, a knowledge that his universe was poised upon the edge, that something different, and wonderful, was about to happen….

Spock fulfilled the promise that was in his eyes, spoke with heartfelt sincerity. “Somewhere among the Marines and the Orions, Jim, I learned what love was. And now I can say it to you.” His hand caught up Jim’s, and brought them up, fingers entwined, to rest against the wildly beating human heart. Their eyes never wavered. “I say it to you willingly, gladly, the return of the gift you have given to me. I love you, Jim. I love you as I have never loved another being. I love you.”

It was the sound of life reaffirming itself. A free and open sky above them, a world as the Maker of All had first created it, two souls who had reached through the darkness and found light. Kirk felt newborn. Spock loved him.

Their lips met in a gentle kiss that lasted for a long, long time. They clung together, reluctant to part even to breathe, wanting this moment of wonder to stretch on forever. Their mouths opened, and tongues began to caress as their desire for each other grew.

And then there was a moment of vertigo, and each of them opened their eyes in alarm. The meadow, the trees, the blue sky wavered and blanked out into darkness, then the scene steadied and they were back by the wall again.

“What was that?” Kirk gasped.

Spock smiled ruefully, the small smile with his eyes that only Kirk could detect, and tightened his hold around Jim’s waist. “It seems that my control over the meld is weakened during sexual arousal.” He looked down at his penis.

Kirk laughed shakily and leaned forward for a chaste kiss. “It’s all right. We can save our loving for later.” He looked along the line of the wall with a frown. “Back in Iowa this wall only went on about half a kilometer, to the edge of the back meadow. Your wall on Vulcan, it seemed to go on forever.” He turned back, concern obviously showing on his face. “Do you think you’ll be able to find your way back here? Is the gate just here now, because we’re together, or do you need for us to explore along the wall some more?”

Spock shook his head. “It is not necessary. Now that I know it is here, I will be able to find it, or construct it again if I need to do so.” He released his hold on Kirk, and deliberately walked over to the gate, swung it open, walked through it, and moved over to where his lover still sat against the wall. Kirk swung his legs over the stones so that he was facing Spock again.

“The gate, the wall,” Spock explained seriously, “all are merely representations of difficulties I have experienced in integrating my newly-accepted emotions concerning you into my personality. The imagery is a crutch, which will no doubt become unnecessary soon. Nevertheless,” he reached for Kirk again, placing his hands lightly upon the sturdy shoulders, looking at him very seriously, “it would be illogical to expect that the conflicts I have experienced all my life will suddenly disappear, or that my training will be negated. I will never be able to express my emotions as you do, nor do I wish to. This change does not mean that. Are you able to accept that?”

“Oh, Spock,” Kirk said in gentle exasperation, “how could you even ask? I’m so damned happy for you. I’ve never wanted you to change. I just hoped that you could accept yourself and accept what we are to each other in a way that you could live with. And it looks like,” he glanced again along the wall, “you have.” He looked back wonderingly at Spock. “You can.”

“Indeed.” Spock slid his hands down his lover’s body, coming to rest about Kirk’s waist, smiling openly in happiness only his lover would see. “And I find such acceptance to be a most agreeable sensation.”

“Most agreeable, Mister Spock,” Kirk said, matching his friend’s lighthearted mood.

“In that case, I believe that it is the duty of those who love one another to consider the other person’s happiness. Is that not correct?”

“Yes,” Kirk agreed, puzzled. “But….”

“Then, as there is no longer any need for us to devote attention to a boundary marker which is a mundane aspect of your childhood, I believe there is a body of water nearby that you would no doubt enjoy experiencing.”

“Sheesh,” Kirk mock complained, and hopped down from the wall. “It’s embarrassing to be so predictable. I guess I can’t hide anything from you.” He smiled up at his lover. “And that’s good. I don’t want to.”

They returned to the tree-lined stream. They sat by the side to bathe their feet, until the inevitable happened and Kirk jumped in. He pulled Spock in, too, an event that both could have predicted the moment they entered the meld and saw the water. But Spock was willing to endure even water and mock attack for the enchanting smile on his captain’s face, for he understood that it was all an expression of Jim’s great happiness over the gate in the wall. Spock willingly splashed and played, attacked and retreated, even once dunked a gasping captain until a waving hand called surrender. Kirk regained his breath and smiled a brittle smile that immediately turned Spock wary. The retaliation, when it came, consisted of a relentless splashing assault that left the desert-bred Vulcan gasping for breath in turn, but willing to endure for the watery kisses Kirk pressed on his lips just before he was plunged beneath the surface.

Kirk was laughing so hard he was clutching at his sides, but he recovered enough to push Spock up the now-slippery bank. “Hey, you’re gonna get cold!” he exclaimed as he surveyed the moss-covered, shady resting spots under the trees. So they walked out into the sun-covered meadow and lay down on the grass.

They grew drowsy after a while in the sunlight. The sky was a brilliant, brilliant blue. From where they lay, the mountains were silhouetted on the horizon before them, and they spent long minutes just watching the clouds dancing along their summits.

“This is it,” Kirk sighed in happiness. “This is really just like my dream.” He was laying on his stomach, resting his head upon Spock’s outstretched arm, and claiming his lover with one arm thrown over a hairy chest.

“It is indeed a most restful place.”

“Restful! If we’re not careful I’m going to want to stay here, forever. I could,” Kirk looked at Spock with loving eyes, “if you were here to share it.”

Spock looked indulgent at this piece of illogic. “However, I do not believe I would have the power to maintain the illusion for so long. We would be required to forego what is, I believe, one of your favorite pleasures.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot.” Kirk started to move his hand through the hair under his fingers. “I don’t think I could do that, forever.” He hitched himself up on one elbow and leaned over his lover. “Not even for an hour.” They kissed.

But they carefully parted before the world began to disintegrate. Kirk resumed his previous stroking. “I think I know what made the difference on the Ag Colony.”

“What is that?”

“T’Pring. And me. I saw that you were willing to meld with me in front of her. I was very, very proud. You were declaring yourself before her, accepting what we were to one another yourself, too. What do you think?”

Spock was thoughtful. “Your theory has merit. Although I would add various circumstances that occurred on the planet. Perhaps all I needed was time, and T’Pring as the catalyst to effect the final change.” He touched the much-loved face. “There is no conflict still within me. I touch the emotions that you inspire, and I accept them as a part of myself.”

“I’m so glad,” Kirk whispered, and leaned down for another kiss.

Spock’s arms went about him, and Kirk’s tongue tentatively went out to lick along the dry lips. Then both sets of lips parted, and Kirk slowly sucked his lover’s tongue inside. His hand moved up to grip Spock’s shoulder, Spock’s hand dropped to grasp one hip. Together they eased Kirk’s body over, and only when he was laying full length upon Spock did they interrupt their kiss to breathe.

They looked at each other, both half-smiling, asking a question. Kirk raised his head to take another look at his surroundings, noticing the trees not far away.

His smile broadened and he looked down at Spock. “But I’ll never get to see the shadows on your body,” he teased.

Spock pulled him back down. “There will be other times, T’hy’la. I require you now.”

Kirk breathed in his ear, “I’ll always be here when you need me.”

He threaded fingers through the always-so-neat fringe of bangs, pressed kisses along the soaring brows, then looked down upon the glowing face beneath him. “I love you,” he whispered, and slowly drew one forefinger across the lips that opened just for him. “Do you know how much?”

The question begged for no answer. Spock drew his captain’s head down to him, and kissed him with a tenderness and total acceptance Kirk had only ever known with this man. They slowly drew apart, and Spock looked up at him with bright-lit eyes. “Love me,” he said, the words an arrow of longing and beauty that lodged in Kirk’s heart. “Make love to me, Jim.”

“Always,” Kirk promised, and took the words as the gift they were meant to be. Spock controlled the meld, shaped and gave substance to this wondrous, yet insubstantial world around them. Kirk would control the touch, the passion which gave them new life within the old. The duality which had shaped the two of them from the moment they had first met, here expressed in the determination they both had to make their new life work. Light and darkness, passion and logic, assertion and restraint. Earth and Vulcan. Blended here and now into the affinity that had always been the two of them together.

Kirk pressed his lips back down against the warm ones beneath him, and he heard Spock’s breaths begin to deepen. He felt a hardness growing against his leg, and then there was a moment of dizziness. Kirk was too involved with the tongue in his mouth to see the instant of transformation, but when he forced himself to open his eyes again, they were back among the blankets on the floor.

“Thank you,” he whispered, drawing back just enough to speak, “for that wonderful gift.”

“You are most welcome,” Spock’s deep voice rumbled.

Kirk settled himself more firmly upon his lover. He could feel the hardness of a penis against his thigh, and the wonderful stirring that was his own cock coming to life. He smiled into eyes which smiled back. “Let’s celebrate,” he suggested. “May all walls have gates in them,” and leaned down again to feel the touch of Spock’s lip against his own.

Warm, so very warm. And so much softer than they looked as they pressed against his. Kirk kept his mouth closed, and moved just his lips gently against Spock’s, sliding, caressing with tiny movements, puckering into little kisses, pulling away centimeters only to connect again. So much life. He felt the very tip of a tongue come out to explore, and eagerly met it with his own.

They dueled for a moment, liking the slick feeling of wet tongue against wet tongue, each of them gasping now as they tried to hold back a threatening runaway passion. Then Kirk took the upper lip between his own, sucked it, loving the sound his sucking made, thinking of sucking the beautiful twin-ridged cock, remembering the cries of pleasure Spock always made. He felt a thrill course through his body when his lover gave a little moan. Was Spock thinking of mouths on cocks too? He released his hold, and immediately starting sucking on the lower lips. Spock moaned again.

This was heaven. There was nothing in all the universe to rival this wonderful intimacy, that let him share pleasure with his precious, precious friend. Kirk felt like he was drowning, felt like he had never felt before.

“I could get lost in you,” he murmured, pressing kisses now into the side of Spock’s face. “I could drown myself in you and never know I needed air.”

Warm hands came up to cradle his face, and he was gently pulled around until he was looking deeply into glowing eyes. “I will breathe for you,” Spock promised. “Let me breathe for you always.” And Spock pulled his lover’s face down to his. Their mouths opened. Tongues slid wetly against each other. Then Kirk’s mouth was filled with a tongue, and they were both making small noises in the backs of their throats that told of growing desire.

Spock flung one arm around Kirk’s back and pulled him against his own body hard. The other hand began a journey down his lover’s spine, fingertips pausing here and there to stroke nerve endings into pleasurable, excruciating life, each touch causing streaks of sensation to shoot all through the strong body. Kirk gasped against an open mouth and felt his cock swell. He undulated against his lover’s thigh, not resisting his excitement, all the while feeling Spock’s hand moving lower and lower down….

Until the big hand was firmly holding his ass. Kirk sighed and, despite the pounding of his heart, forced himself to hold still. He turned his head to rest against Spock’s neck and shoulder, curled his body up and to one side so that he was lying cradled in his lover’s arms. He made no pretense of doing anything except experiencing the sensations his lover was giving him. It was so easy to do, releasing responsibility for doing anything except being loved with touch. Had he ever been able to do it before? Did it matter, when he could do this with his beloved friend?

First one globe, then the other felt the soft warmth as Spock cradled him with his palm. Fingers all curved, and nails scratched gently around, making circles bigger and bigger. Kirk almost whimpered with delight.

The scratching motion changed to up and down, moving from his hip inwards towards his crevice. Spock whispered into his hair, “Is this pleasing for you?”

“Oh, God, yes, it’s wonderful,” Kirk half-panted, wriggling a little in pleasure.

“I enjoy touching you like this,” Spock whispered again. “You are so beautiful, Jim. Your body is a great delight to me.”

Again, something precious and new. Warmth came over Kirk as he thought of how those words meant so much now, spoken with unwavering love and devotion behind them.

“I love your body, too,” he said breathlessly. “I still don’t understand how it happened, but, oh God, how I love it.” His hand began to wander. It rested on the strong neck, where he had found Spock loved to be kissed, licked and sucked. To the hairy chest, now a surprising source of pleasure and of comfort. To the narrow waist and hips, where he had once left bruises when he had grasped Spock strongly and thrust against him. Down to the twin-ridged cock, standing out stiffly from the curly dark pubic hair, bobbing against the touch of Kirk’s hand. This was his lover’s body, still so new to him who had loved so many women before. His strong lover. Spock. His fingers wrapped around the shaft in possession.

A little gasp, otherwise silence. But the scratching turned to firm strokes with the long fingers, coming closer and closer to his yearning crevice, finally pausing with just the tips resting about the curve which led to inner depths. Fingers toyed with the short hairs that grew there, them moved down and around, following the path that led to Kirk’s balls.

Kirk spread his legs quickly to give greater access, still maintaining a firm hold on the cock in his hand. Fingers probed the back of his balls, curled around them. He gasped and his hand tightened when Spock hefted the loose sacs and stimulated them with gentle touches. Each caress sent tingling lines of sensation through Kirk’s groin. He pushed up against the pleasure, then down to rub his cock against the top of Spock’s leg. “God,” Kirk gasped, “you turn me on. I can’t believe how hot you make me.”

And then Spock was tilting Kirk over onto the blankets, turning him so that he was lying on his stomach. Kirk complied willingly, again finding it so easy to yield to the pressure of his lover’s hands. He couldn’t resist thrusting once into the softness bunched up beneath him, knowing a satisfaction at the purely physical thrill that shot through him, feeling a flash of frustration at the absence of his lover’s stimulating touch.

But then a warm body was settling over him, and Spock was raining kisses on his shoulders. Kirk could feel the stiff cock poking against the back of his thigh, and then the slim body pushing up slightly on elbows. Kirk felt a warm hand go down between their bodies, and then the long cock was being laid along the crack of his ass. It settled there naturally, angled upwards, and Spock laid down against him again with a small cry of pleasure.

“Oh, yes,” Kirk gasped into the pillows, and pushed back strongly. The strong body undulated against him, and for a few frantic moments the two of them were caught together in a frenzied search for rhythm, moving strongly against each other. Spock was grasping his shoulders hard, and Kirk could hear the straining of his impassioned breathing in his ear.

“Oh, Jim!” Spock panted.

“Spock!” Kirk was starting to overload, and could barely get the name of his lover through his suddenly stiff lips.

Then one hand came around to his hip, fingers pulling at him and demanding entrance to the trapped cock below. Kirk heaved upwards, and the hand slipped in, finding its way unerringly to the sensation filled organ.

And for a few wild, heart-stopping moments, Kirk was a willing prisoner, caught between two cocks. He thrust strongly into his lover’s hand, then back against the undisputed possession along his ass, feeling the sensations building, knowing he was on the verge of orgasm, not wanting it yet, but unable to stop….

But Spock sensed it too, and, with a moan which spoke of monumental control, he was suddenly holding himself still. He pressed down upon Kirk, holding him motionless except for his desperate heaving for breath.

“No,” Spock gasped, “not yet.”

And he wrapped now-gentle arms around Kirk’s shoulders, and wriggled until they were under the broad chest and clasped in an embrace.

They rested immobile like that for a few minutes, breathing slowly changing from ragged gasps to evenness. Spock’s body atop his began to feel a little heavy, but Kirk wouldn’t have asked him to move for anything short of a red alert. He could still feel the stiff prick against him, and the readiness of his own cock against the blankets.

Spock’s hand began to move, caressing one satiny shoulder.

“Do you know what is important to me?” he whispered. He leaned down to speak into a rounded ear, then licked along the inner edge.

Kirk shivered as nerve endings roared into life. He loved having his ears kissed. “No, what’s important?” He wished he could see his lover’s face.

A warm hand moved from his shoulder to trail lightly down his side. “Being able to touch you,” Spock said, with a touch of wonder in his voice. His fingers flexed lightly against a hip, then settled into a strong grip. “Knowing that I can touch you, and that you will touch me.

Kirk carefully turned until they were lying side by side facing each other. He laid a palm flat against the hairy chest and looked deeply into the expressive brown eyes that no one else could read like he could. “I love touching you,” he whispered huskily. “I love having that right.”

“It is…wonderful,” Spock said, shyly, but still regarding him steadily. “It is like nothing I have ever had in my life before.”

Kirk began to trace little lines down the side of Spock’s face. “It’s wonderful, it’s unbelievable, it’s very, very logical, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” An eyebrow arched.

Kirk leaned forward to kiss the side of the pale-skinned neck. “Uh-huh. Sweetheart. And love. And precious, precious friend.” He kissed hard, certain he was far enough down that the mark he would probably leave would be covered by a uniform collar. “And every other word that means the same thing.” He drew back to look into soft eyes. “Unless that bothers you.”

“Endearments are new to me. If it pleases you, I will…adjust to them.” There was the spark of humor shining forth. “And I have already called you t’hy’la.”

“Yes. I like it when you call me that.” Kirk smiled, then scooted forward until they were chest to chest and their arms wrapped around each other. Cocks nestled snugly against their erect counterparts, then each pulsed and jerked in obvious excitement.

“I think,” Kirk whispered into the ear by his mouth, “that it’s time to go on to other things.” 

“Indeed.”

A long moment of silence as they held each other close. Then, just the merest whisper, “I’ll come inside you, Spock. I’ll leave my seed inside you.”

The body within the circle of his arms shivered, and Spock drew in a deep shuddering breath. “Yessss…. But first, something else.”

And strong arms were turning Kirk’s body over so that he was flat on his stomach again, and Spock was laying a trail of precise kisses down the center of the broad back. The kisses were light, purposeful, and led directly back down to the ass he seemed to be so fascinated with tonight.

He knelt between Kirk’s spread legs, leaned down with his hands to either side parting the soft globes, and began to lick.

If their few moments of respite had served to dampen a little of Kirk’s passion, these determined dabs of Spock’s tongue all about his anus were enough to set off fireworks all over again.

“What are you doing?” he asked breathlessly.

Spock paused in mid-lick, settled his body full-length down upon the blankets, rested the side of his head on one asscheek, and looked up at his bedmate. Kirk had raised his head and turned it over his shoulder, to look down at the incredibly exciting sight.

“You have done this for me,” Spock said, eyes bright with arousal.

“Yes….” How to say it? That the touch of his lover’s tongue in that secret place was, to Kirk, the greatest intimacy there was. More than the few times the long cock had been there, more than the entwining of their minds in the meld. That he gave this to Spock willingly, this undisputed possession of his body. That it was the ultimate expression of his eager willingness to experience whatever Spock wanted to do with him, as well as his desire to make wild, passionate love to him.

He suddenly burned for the wet swiping of the warm tongue against him.

“Do it for me,” he commanded with a gasp, and arched up for the touch.

It felt incredible. Like he was being turned inside out and laid bare with every wonderful movement of that hot wet tongue against his so-sensitive skin. Up one side, down the other, bringing every inch into screaming, aching arousal. It made his cock jerk in little involuntary movements against the blankets. The warmth made long, determined strokes. Short, strong jabs. Closer and closer to the entrance to his body. And when Spock’s tongue stiffened and pointed itself to tease inside his hole, Kirk could stand it no longer. Another thirty seconds of this and he would come, and he had no intention of wasting his seed, not when his lover had whispered so trustingly of other desires to him.

Kirk jerked away from the probing touch, and quickly turned himself within his lover’s grasp. His hands went out to Spock’s shoulders to pull him up, then down to the slim hips to position him so that he was straddling Kirk’s waist. The long cock, looking alabaster white in the dim light, stood out proudly before his eyes.

It begged for a touch, and Kirk wrapped strong fingers around its hardness. Spock jerked and gasped, and threw his head back with a long drawn out moan of pleasure.

The sound sent wild feelings of exultation through Kirk, exultation and pride that overpowered his own arousal. Only he had ever heard such wanton sounds from his so-controlled lover. Only he could touch. He was filled with the determination to drive Spock wild with desire, to make him moan again and again.

“Watch me,” Kirk commanded. And Spock obeyed, bending his head back down to see. Kirk moved his hand down until it was encircling the base of the slender cock. He paused there, and squeezed, his fingers feeling the incredible softness of the penile skin, and the fierce thrumming of the excited blood. He released his grip, and ran just the tips of his fingers straight up the shaft until they encountered the lower ridge. Kirk heard Spock take in a deep breath as he caressed the underside of the flared out skin with his index finger, then repeated the action with the upper ridge.

He looked up into the dark eyes, wide and intently watching his every move. He watched his lover swallow in time with another squeeze, and felt the organ in his hand get even harder.

Kirk glanced back down at where he had the cock firmly encircled again within his fist. A small drop of liquid was glistening at the very tip, defining the tiny hole in the dim light. It was impossible not to touch it, the sight was irresistible. He released his thumb, and with it gently touched the very first evidences of Spock’s desire. Slowly, he spread it all around the satin head, swirling from the tip around and around to the flared out edge, then back again.

Spock was breathing heavily now, his heaving sounding incredibly exciting, each inhalation sending little fires of sensation through Kirk.

“Do you like this?” Kirk panted, tightening his grip on the cock.

“Yes.” It was a strangled reply. Spock’s chin was tucked into his chest, so that he could see each of his partner’s touches upon his bursting organ.

“‘Tell me what you want,” Kirk begged passionately. He wanted to give Spock all the pleasure he could stand. He wanted to hear his moans of ecstasy fill the room. “Tell me what I can do for you.”

“My…testicles. Please….”

Spock’s eyes closed tightly when his lover’s fingers carefully worked their way around the tight sacs. He groaned when Kirk’s fingers began to heft and roll them, and threw his head back as ecstasy closed in.

“Ohhhhhh! Jim!”

It had to be the most erotic experience of Kirk’s life. One of his hands on the hot cock, the other wrapped around the precious balls, his lover groaning his pleasure and rocking above him, each sound controlled by his own touch. He had never felt so strong, he had never felt so totally sexual. Thrills of electricity shot through his body.

“Oh, God,” Kirk cried wildly, “Oh, God, I love doing this to you, I love it!” His own cock was screaming for sensation, and bobbed tightly just inches short of where Spock was perched. “Move down!” he commanded, frantic for stimulation, and pushed down hard against the base of the cock in his hand. “Move….”

But Spock had already shifted, and the head of Kirk’s cock slid along the recesses of the other’s body to the sound of his satisfied gasp. Spock’s own manhood was still encased in his lover’s strong grip, and he started to thrust within it. Kirk squeezed the cock hard, and moved his thumb up past the strongly flared ridges to arc over the sensitive spongy head. More leaking fluid made the area slick.

It seemed to be almost more than Spock could bear. His whole body trembled, then bucked back and forth violently.

“Oh! Oh! JIM! I’m going to…. Oh, Jim, that feels…. Ooohhhh! Yesssss!”

That did it. With a growl Kirk released his hold on his lover and sat up among the blankets, pushing Spock down before him as he did so. He reached for the tube of lubricant from the nightstand in the same motion.

“I’ve got to have you,” he panted, unscrewing the cap with hands made clumsy with arousal. “I’ve got to be inside you now.”

Spock straightened his legs against the blankets to either side of Kirk, then arched upwards. The motion pushed his groin up into the air and displayed his yearning erection. It was an uncontrolled exhibition of sexuality that was so erotic Kirk felt his heart leap in his chest. He paused with his fingers half-covered with cream and stared down at the cock that was all his.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, and hastily squirted more lubricant out of the tube. His hand went down to coat his own organ, but his eyes went immediately back to the wanton show of Spock so open before him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. His hand on his cock began to pump a little. “You are the most incredible sight I have ever seen.”

“Then come to me,” Spock said huskily, and put out one hand in a beckoning gesture.

Kirk remembered to grab the tube as he walked on his knees closer to his lover, but his eyes were only for Spock. They gazed deeply at each other as Spock raised his knees for access and Kirk’s cream-covered finger entered the pliant body.

“I love you, Jim,” Spock said passionately, and squeezed down on the finger that rotated within him and then withdrew. His eyes held his lover’s. “I want to give you everything. My body. My mind.” He was panting hard. “Will you take my mind? Will you share this with me?” His hand extended in the unmistakable invitation of a meld.

“Oh, yes, Spock!” A triumphant cry of exultation. “Yes!” This was what he had been waiting for, this was the Vulcan way of love that he had wondered about, moments when the two of them could be one.

Kirk lifted the willing legs up to his shoulders, then positioned his penis at the puckered entrance. He felt long fingers press against his temple. He heaved against the tight hole, and fell into Spock’s mind as he entered his body.

A sudden moment of disorientation. A flash of fear as sensations were momentarily too intense to comprehend, and then….

Overwhelming ecstasy. Love so bright it shone like a thousand suns. Desire so deep it plumbed the center of the universe. Sensations that shot through his body like electric currents of pleasure, through his limbs, then over to the other body, and through those limbs….

Feeling his cock go easing through the hot slick channel, loving the encasing feel of Spock’s tightness, knowing it was the best, the most wonderful home his cock had ever known…. And just as vividly feeling his body being penetrated, loving the possessing touch of Jim’s strong penis, knowing it was the best, the most wonderful experience he would ever have…. Thinking with one mind, feeling with one heart, loving with one body that was both of them together….

Wanting to move, cock aflame, wanting to feel movement, cock pressed tight against his lover’s, his own belly, heaving up, pressing down, crying out with two matched voices in strangled pleasure as the twin ridges flared in irreversible arousal, knowing a titanic, mutual desire to absolutely possess, at the same time knowing an equally overwhelming and shared desire to absolutely be possessed, thrusting exactly the way they both needed, knowing exactly how much to clench around a cock that was only seconds away from eruption….

Desperate to plant seed, desperate to receive it.

When Kirk came to awareness again, it was to find himself already withdrawn and securely held in loving arms. The chest beneath his cheek was still heaving, the echoes of an unbelievable orgasm still tingled in his loins.

Words did not seem necessary. The meld was gone, but still Kirk felt that they were connected in some way. Emotionally, psychically. Hazily he wondered how it would feel to be really bonded, and to actually experience a part of Spock within him, always. It would be better than this, and this had been…unbelievably wonderful.

He shook his head in disbelief against Spock’s chest. The deep voice rumbled against his ear. “Do you recall a conversation we once had?”

Kirk raised his head up and looked down at his lover through the dim light, his lover with the elegant pointed ears, the marvelous intellect, the sensitive soul. The emotional connection between them told him exactly what Spock was talking about. “What conversation?” The soft brown eyes looking at him were the most important, most incredible treasures in the universe.

“When we talked about our future, together.”

He searched the contours of the face before him. How to express all that was within him? How could words, and a look, convey a happiness that threatened to break the bounds of his being? “I remember.”

A warm hand came up to tangle in his hair. Spock’s voice was deep, and beautiful, and very, very certain. “Perhaps now is the appropriate time to continue that conversation.”

Kirk felt that he was starting to lose himself within the softness of eyes and voice. “And should we talk about love?”

A whisper borne upon a gentle wind. “Yes.” “And forever?” A question drawn up from the depths of his soul.

“Yes.” Breathed with all the surety of an overflowing heart.

Kirk slowly lowered his head until their lips met. “Yes,” he sighed. No more words were needed. They had already said them all.

Love.

Forever.

Yes.

THE END


End file.
